In Hiding
by WhittakerTM
Summary: Months after Day 7, Tony Almeida discovers the truth about what really happened to Michelle, and finds himself outside her apartment one night.
1. Chapter 1

In Hiding

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><p>It was early in the evening when a stolen SUV slowed and finally stopped across the street from an apartment building. The building was a high rise, cream in colour, and people trickled in and out, the occupants arriving home from work, others heading out for dinner. The night was dark, there was snow packed against the kerb, and the surrounding shops were in the process of de-Christmasing their window displays. It was early January, and Tony Almeida could not believe how cold it was. Toronto was not the place he'd expected to find her. He had been anticipating something beyond the borders of the United States for obvious reasons, but Canada hadn't been his first thought.<p>

As soon as he'd learned she was alive he'd known she'd left the country. It wasn't safe for her, it would never be safe again. The government had wanted her dead, probably still did. They most likely had her name on all sorts of watch lists, just the way they had his. She couldn't depend on their country, not the way it currently was, and so getting out had been her only option. He wondered what she knew. He wondered what they told her as they whisked her away from their house after the car bomb.

They'd had her declared dead, had it posted on her agent profile, had a stand in body to be prised apart in the autopsy and later cremated. In secret, they'd revived her, kept her in an induced coma to save her life, and then they'd reawakened her ten days later. They'd tried to extract information from her, agency secrets, access codes, everything – anything – on Jack Bauer. They pumped her for anything they could, they'd asked her about things that had been left deep in the past. They said they'd been watching her ever since the day of the nuclear bomb. She'd been the one to draw attention to the Cyprus recording, the one who'd employed the help of Jack Bauer, the one who conspired against her superiors to prove it was a fake. That and that alone had brought decades' worth of planning to a grinding halt. They wanted her to know how much she'd destroyed that day, how much money and resources she'd seen fit to waste on some ethical whim.

They had hated her from that moment on because so many men had worked tirelessly to ensure the bombing of those countries, the start of world war three, and she was the silly woman who'd stopped it all. So many men had invested in that war, so many had been relying on that gains of it, and she was off living her life, unaware of the trouble she'd caused. These men were embedded deep in government agencies, deep in politics, deep in the private sector. They'd been watching her for years, waiting for a very long time, to get their hands on her. They just needed an excuse, an opportunity to take her from her life and use her up. Jack Bauer's disappearance seemed as good a reason as any, and so they'd faked her death to stop an inquiry, and they'd taken her away.

The weeks following her coma had been the worst of her life, and they'd hurt her in unimaginable ways for information. She had a lot to give, and though she resisted for days, she was only human. They'd uncovered a lot of interesting things from Michelle Dessler.

Tony had been in prison again, this time facing what he'd done in Washington on his crusade toward Alan Wilson. He was not himself any longer, and he didn't care. Prison, murder, terrorism, revenge, whatever. He no longer felt anything. He found it hard to give a damn about his trial, if it could be called that. His life was not something he wanted anymore. He wanted death. He wanted others to die. He wanted people, just random people, to hurt like he did. He wanted them to suffer for being a part of the country he despised. String me up, he thought. Make me pay. It doesn't matter.

He'd been allowed a visitor. Just one. He had expected Jack, come to stare at him, confused, angry, betrayed. Come to make him feel sorry for the FBI agents he'd killed, for taking Larry Moss' life, for conspiring to commit terrorist acts, for everything.

Tony had taken his chair, picked up the phone and looked through the glass, ready for Jack's eyes to come boring back at him. Instead he was met with Danny Dessler. His face, impassive since his arrest, changed for the first time. He was taken aback.

Danny's expression was a mix between revolted, angry and scared. Something about his appearance seemed different. Cleaner. More capable. Tony took him in. He seemed generally better, healthier, in control. Upon realising this, Tony felt despair stab at him. Michelle would've been delighted.

'Tony,' he said, by way of greeting. Tony glared at him. Eventually he gave a nod. Danny swallowed. He looked around the visitors' room, at the other stalls left and right of him. Tony guessed he'd never been in a prison before.

'I've been told about all the things you've done,' he said, meeting his gaze. Tony blinked. 'You deserve to stay in here for the rest of your life.'

Tony eyed him closely. He was still exceptionally confused as to Danny's reasons for visiting. They'd always been civil – tolerant, really – of each other until Danny had vowed to get his life back together and moved to Seattle, back to his family. That had been about six months before the day of the virus, and though he and Michelle had phoned each other often, Tony hadn't seen him since.

'My sister...'Danny began. He cast around, avoiding Tony's eye, looking upset. 'If she could see this...'

He shook his head. Tony said nothing. It wasn't the first time someone had brought Michelle up, had thrown her in his face or used her record of outstanding morals and decency to cut him down. He was used to it by now. Yeah, yeah, he thought tiredly. She's holed up in heaven, looking down at this mess, shaking her head at him. Of course she is. He'd heard it before.

Danny had continued talking about how Michelle would be repulsed by him now and what he'd done, and Tony told himself to listen. He had no real time for Danny, but Michelle had loved her brother, and that in itself made him give the man his attention.

'I miss her,' Danny was saying. He was looking directly at Tony now, each word oddly clear and measured. 'I keep pretending she's alive. That she's run away, gone into hiding somewhere. That she's alright.'

Tony frowned. Danny eyes were wide, intense. 'I keep imagining she's fine. I imagine she calls me one night, tells me she's alive, that she's away from this all. She won't tell me where though. All she tells me is that she's safe. That she loves me and the kids.'

Tony leant forward in his chair, gripping the phone, staring hard at him through the glass, searching his face. Danny stared back.

'But none of that will happen,' he said slowly. 'She won't ever call...because she's dead.'

'No,' Tony agreed. It was the first word he'd said since they'd pulled him away from Jack and Alan Wilson. He'd been silent throughout his trial. There had been nothing left to say.

'No,' he repeated. His voice was hoarse. 'She won't do that. Dead people don't make phone calls.'

Danny nodded slowly. 'Exactly,' he said conspiratorially. 'Dead people are just that. Dead.'

He swallowed again. His gaze finally tore from Tony's.

'I'm going now,' he said suddenly. 'Goodbye Tony.'

He watched Danny hang up the phone and leave the heavily guarded visitor's room. Tony sat, paralysed, for a very long time. He could barely breathe. Michelle was alive.

Now, in the snow-strewn city of Toronto, Tony killed the engine of the car and waited, his eyes never leaving the door of the apartment complex. It had taken him months to organise his escape, an event orchestrated by a few men still loyal to him, men he'd met during his time with Emerson. Tony had to kill one of his fellow prisoners before the warden had seen fit to transfer him to another prison, one with higher security, if that was possible. Emerson's men had attacked the prison transit truck and had extracted Tony. The very next day he began his search for Michelle. He hadn't been able to sleep. Hadn't been able to contain himself. She was alive. Alive. Michelle was alive. It consumed him. It drove him. He'd never felt so much desperation to lay eyes on a single person in all his life. He didn't let himself fully believe it. He couldn't. The horror of discovering she really was dead all along would surely kill him, and he'd be glad for it. Every day, his fingers itched to be buried in her hair, everyday his arms longed to take hold of her, everyday his mouth craved hers. He felt as though some god had smiled upon him. His baby was alive. He adored thinking about their reunion. What did she know? Would he surprise her with his own survival? Would it shock her? He grinned wolfishly, barely able to keep his excitement in check as he imagined the look that would come across her beautiful face. He was going to hold her for years, going to kiss her for decades, going to make love to her every hour on the hour for the rest of their lives. He couldn't believe it. She was alive.

It had taken him another two months of combing through records, back channels, digging through computerised files and asking (threatening, really) the right people. It had been exhausting, but he hadn't stopped. He'd barely slept. And now, he was here...in Toronto, his heart thudding in his chest. He had no idea if this really was her building, he had no idea where she worked or if she really was in fact here. All he could do was sit in the car, watch it snow, and wait.

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	2. Chapter 2

Tony sat perfectly still in the car, parked under a weak streetlight. His eyes hadn't left the apartment building. Once, long ago, he would have had the radio on if he was just sitting in the car. Normally tuned to whatever station Michelle liked. Now, he sat in silence.

A man marched up the street, carrying a parcel under his arm. A couple passed him, and an elderly woman, and then a small group of teenagers, rugged up against the cold. The people just kept coming and going, off to whatever plans they had for the night. Then, quite suddenly, Tony sat upright. His mouth opened slightly. There she was. The first thing he noticed was her hair, of course. It was shorter now, just touching her shoulders, and was lined with snowflakes, curly as ever. Beautiful. She was wearing a dark turtleneck and a blood-red scarf. Her pea coat was snug, and her hands were clad in thick black gloves. Her cheeks were rosy, her nose red from the cold. Her leather handbag dangled from her shoulder, the buckle glinting, and a shopping bag was tucked up under her arm.

Tony didn't know what to do. He felt as though he'd been struck across the chest with a wooden plank. He felt as though he'd been hit by a semi-trailer. He'd never felt so alive in his life, he'd never felt such adrenaline course through him. There she was. Alive. Indisputably alive. She was walking and breathing, real as the night itself. He couldn't even draw breath. To actually see her, to actually know for sure that she was still here, was almost too much. For a second, he could feel their lives together stretch out in front of him. At first, he knew they'd lock themselves in her bedroom for a couple weeks, hiding away, just loving each other, but then, they could start a life. The notion thrilled him to no end. They'd never go back to the United States, something he was thankful for, and they could rebuild together here. They could make plans, go places, enjoy their lives together in a way they never had before. He was going to honour her, protect her, love her every goddamn day just because she was still alive and that in itself was the greatest gift she could ever give him.

Tony opened the car door to go to her, to run to her and grab her and hold her against him, but, as the gust of frosty air hit him, he froze. Attached to her hand was another person. Another much smaller person. Tony's mouth shut, and he closed the door with a soft thud, his brain unable to decipher what he was seeing.

There was a child with her. A child in a thick, downy jacket, gloves and a green, snow dusted beanie. Tony shook his head. There was no way...there was just no way. No pregnancy could ever have survived the blast of that car bomb. And even if it had, it wouldn't have survived the stress of the coma, and then the torture they'd subjected her to right after, or her well planned escape from their custody. No, he told himself. Their child would have perished in the bomb. These conclusions then left him feeling ill, and murderous, and incomprehensibly jealous. The child was some other man's. Michelle entered the apartment building, the kid swinging his arms and talking rapidly at her. From the across the street, Tony couldn't determine what was being said. He watched Michelle as she nodded and smiled at the boy as she collected their mail. Her smile hit him like a punch to the face. His body twitched, a convulsion almost, and had to goad himself to stay where he was. The kid kept talking at her, tugging happily on her coat as he did. She said something to him, and the kid was suddenly reduced to giggles. She grinned appreciatively at him, watching him laugh. Tony could feel his heart seize and twist. He watched her switch the shopping bag to her other arm, freeing her up to slip the mail in her handbag. Her hand then reached out to brush a couple of snowflakes out of the kid's fringe, a sweet gesture that looked like one the most natural things she'd ever done, before she escorted him into an elevator and out of sight. Tony didn't move for a very long time.

It had been six years. She'd believed him dead, just like everyone else. She'd gone into hiding, cut off from everyone and everything, meaning that she would have had no way of knowing he was alive, nor would she have learned about his escapades in Washington. Now, after seeing her, radiant in the snow, he realised he couldn't blame her. He couldn't feel betrayed by her. Six years was a long time. She'd had nothing to wait for, no one to tie her down. The more he thought of it, the more certain he became of the idea that she'd entered a new life. She was beautiful in the extreme, and intelligent and the idea that other men would be ignorant of that was ridiculous. She'd moved on, remarried, had a kid. They lived in the apartment, a small family, and Tony was sitting outside in a stolen car in silence, trying to control himself, trying not to feel as though it was his right to destroy whichever man had laid claim to his wife, whichever man had seen fit to put a ring on her finger and plant a child inside her. Tony had killed before. He barely felt anything these days, no remorse, no second guessing. There was nothing to stop him from murdering this man.

Why hadn't Danny come to him sooner, he thought? He allowed himself to feel bitter and distressed and overwhelmed. This could have all been prevented. Why hadn't she called Danny years ago to tell him she was alright? Danny could've delivered the news then and Tony would have found her, would have explained everything, would have made her his once more and that kid chewing her ear off would have been his too.

He raised his eyes to the apartments above him. He took a long, ragged breath. He couldn't just leave her. Not after so long, not after everything they'd endured, together and apart. Not after missing her this much, after loving her so hard. He had to look into her face, had to clutch her to his chest and feel her breath on his neck and her new husband could just go to hell. He wasn't going to make demands, he wasn't going to sweep her off her feet, no matter how desperately he wanted to. Christ knew how dearly he loved her, had always loved her, and he wasn't going to ruin her life. He just wanted her to know he was alive too. He made himself promise not to interfere one last time before he stepped out of the car and trudged across the street, knowing that what he was about to face might be his undoing.

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	3. Chapter 3

Tony knew which apartment was Michelle's. A light on the seventh floor had come on not a minute after she'd disappeared inside with the kid. No one else had entered the building in that time, and it didn't take a genius to work out which apartment it was from the outside. He pushed through the front door of the place, taking care to place his hand exactly where Michelle's had rested a short while ago. The ride in the elevator seemed to take an age, as though he lived several lifetimes before he stepped out into a warmly lit corridor. He crossed to the apartment facing the north and stood at the door for several moments. Apartment 703.

He turned to leave a couple of times. He tried to knock. He wondered if her husband was home. No, he thought, or the lights would have already been on. He expelled a tormented sigh. The husband might return soon. It was best to do this – to say what he had to say – before the guy turned up and found his wife with a man who was meant to be dead. Tony thumbed the gun in his belt. He could just shoot the guy when he got there. It would solve a lot of problems. Of course, it would probably cause a few with Michelle too, but she'd always been a fair woman. Maybe she wouldn't stay angry for long. Tony wondered if there was a way to chivvy the guy's kid off to a relative on his side, so that Michelle would be entirely his once more. He felt guilty for having that thought. He'd seen Michelle looking at the boy. She loved him. He gave an unconscious shrug. So the kid would have to stick around. He could deal with that.

These thoughts weren't very serious, and Tony mostly ignored them. In fact, their main purpose was to act as a distraction, a decoy to curtail the ideas really plaguing Tony. What was he going to say? How was she going to react? Would he lie to her about what he'd done? Or tell her about lives he'd destroyed on his blind hunt for revenge?

He scratched at the side of his face and cursed under his breath. He raised his hand to the door and knocked, three soft thuds. His stomach seemed to toss, his chest constricted, his brain felt slow. Then he realised that time had passed since his knocks. He frowned and knocked again.

He heard rustling beyond the door, the sound of a cartoon or some equally cheery program on the television.

'Mum,' a small voice called out. 'Mummy, someone's at the door.'

Tony scowled. The kid was a hard matter to face, and he didn't want to deal with it yet. He wanted Michelle first. The consequences of their time apart could present themselves after that.

He waited a while longer. Still, she didn't come to the door. Then he realised he could just make out the sound of running water. Somewhere in the apartment, the shower was on.

Tony, feeling disappointed, decided to wait it out. She wasn't one to linger in the shower, and anyway, he was sure she wouldn't leave the kid alone for long. He was just idling over the notion of her being mere feet away, naked, warm and wet, when there was a strange noise at the door. It sounded like a little groan, as though someone was struggling to reach for something, then the lock clicked and the door edged open.

Tony stepped back, surprised, but then looked down and found a pair of eyes gazing back at him.

'Mum's in the bathroom,' the kid informed him. He wiped at his nose. Tony stared at him.

'Ah...yeah,' he said. 'Look...is your father gonna be home soon?'

The boy blinked. He shook his head. Tony nodded, feeling relieved.

'Are you here for mum?' the boy asked. Tony looked at him closely. He didn't know how old the kid was. He was pretty small.

'Yeah,' Tony said. 'Yeah, I'm here for her.'

'You can wait in here,' he mumbled over his shoulder. He'd turned back to the television behind him prematurely, unable to resist it. Tony couldn't identify the cartoon, but it looked pretty entertaining...from a kid's perspective anyway. 'I opened the door all by myself.'

Tony looked at the back of the kids head.

'Ah, yeah,' he agreed. 'Listen...um...do you always open the door when your mother's not around?'

The boy shook his head. He'd inched back into the room now, and was kneeling behind a polished oak coffee table, his elbows perched upon it, gazing at the television screen. Strewn around a chocolate coloured couch was a host of picture books, toy cars, robot figurines and puzzles.

'No,' he murmured. 'I wasn't tall enough until yesterday.'

Tony raised an eyebrow.

'Yesterday?'

'Um, a while ago actually,' the boy corrected himself. He seemed to thinking, straining his memory. 'Maybe a bit more than that. I can't really remember.'

Tony entered the apartment, feeling that the kid might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, that or extremely shy, and closed the door behind him and locked it. The living room, or the bits of it that weren't coated in toys, was nice. It was warmly decorated, not at all like the sparse, modern town house where he and Michelle had spent their last morning together. There was a fireplace, though it wasn't necessary as the building was heated, and the mantel was lined with books and ceramic vases, up high and away from little hands. The furniture was all dark oak or rich mahogany, and the open plan kitchen consisted of honey coloured cabinets and warm, auburn granite counter tops. The fridge was plastered with drawings. By the looks of them the kid apparently had a thing for green. Stemming away from the kitchen was a corridor, leading to the kid's room, the room Michelle shared with her husband (Tony was feeling more malicious by the second) and the bathroom she was currently using.

Tony cast around again. Two plates were sitting in a drying rack by the sink, one china, the other plastic. Tony fixated on them, wondering what in the hell she had fed the boy.

'You can watch this with me.'

Tony turned back to the mumbling kid. He seemed cripplingly introverted and was sitting propped up by the coffee table. He was clad in a set of flannelette pyjamas. Some yellow superhero was flying against a green background on his back. Tony looked at it, then at the cartoon. The same superhero was running around, ghosts on his tail. The boy was enamoured with it, and Tony sat on the chocolate couch behind him to watch.

'So...ah...your mother,' he began. 'What's her name?'

'Mum,' was the soft reply, then 'oh...no. I mean Camille.'

Tony nodded. He'd have been very shocked if Michelle had kept her real name. He imagined a fake identity would have been the first thing she'd seen to once she'd escaped and left the country.

'And what's your father's name?' This was asked out of pure hateful curiosity. The boy said nothing for a moment.

'He's in heaven,' was all he said. Tony frowned. The boy's father was dead? He had not been expecting this, and felt both joyful and saddened. Michelle wasn't tied to any man, but he felt a pang of despair for her loss.

'When did he die?' Tony asked. The boy shrugged.

It took several moments of concentrated cartoon-watching before Tony realised he had another question to ask.

'And your name,' he said. 'What's ah...what's your name?'

'Mason,' the boy said. He didn't mumble this. His name was something he could answer easily, something he felt comfortable telling a stranger. Tony glared at the child for a long time. He had dark hair that curled at the ends and dark eyes...Tony sat forward.

'Hey,' he said. The boy looked back. Tony gazed into his face. He felt his breath catch somewhere high up in his chest.

'And...and how old are you?'

The boy held up his hand. All five fingers were splayed out for Tony to stare at. Then he popped up a single finger on his other hand. 'But mummy says I'm gonna turn six soon.'

It was at that precise moment a deafening, petrified scream erupted throughout the apartment. The boy jumped, his head whipping around to look at the kitchen. Tony shot to his feet, copying the boy's gaze. He hadn't realised it, but in the time he'd spoken to the child Michelle had long since left the shower and had ventured back toward her son, wearing warm black leggings and a soft burgundy sweater. Her curls were drying around her face, damp and unruly. She'd froze at the mouth of the corridor, horrified beyond all measure to see a strange man in dark clothes leaning over her little son, but when the man stood and turned to face her the scream died out in her throat.

'T-Tony,' she whispered softly, and hit the tiled kitchen floor in a dead faint.

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	4. Chapter 4

At first, nothing happened. Mason stayed where he was, Tony stayed where he was and Michelle, sprawled at the mouth of the corridor, followed suit. Tony glanced down at Mason. Mason looked up at him.

'What happened?' He asked, crawling up on the couch to gaze across the room.

'So many things,' Tony answered, scratching at his face. 'Look ah...this is gonna get interesting...and potentially scarring – not that you know what that means – and I'm sure you don't wanna be a spectator so...is there something you can do in your room? Something fun?'

Mason looked back at his unconscious mother. He hadn't heard a word Tony had said.

'Is...is mummy okay?'

'It's not life threatening,' Tony muttered. 'Hey, Mason.'

The boy returned his attention to Tony.

'Yeah?'

'Is there something fun to do in your room?'

His face lit up.

'Um, well, I have a Gameboy DS but I'm not allowed it on school nights. It's the best though.'

'Right...where is that?'

'In mum's drawer.'

'Kay...well, go get that and play it, okay?'

Mason looked torn.

'Well um...but I'm not allowed it on school nights.' He was twisting his little hands in his lap, looking simultaneously hopeful and troubled by the prospect of violating what was apparently an enforced rule.

'Yeah, well, I say you're allowed tonight. Go get it and have fun, alright?'

'Yeah!' Mason said, and he bounded off the couch, leapt over his stirring mother and thudded off up the corridor. After a moment Tony heard a door bang closed and the muted sounds of the game being played. He stared at the corridor, where the child has just disappeared from. He knew that the boy was his son. He knew it, but the realisation had been eclipsed by the appearance of Michelle and well, first thing was first.

Tony crossed to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets until he found a face washer. He held it under the freezing water from the tap, rung it out and then crouched down by her side to lay the cold cloth upon her forehead. He lifted a drying curl, a perfect brown ringlet, rubbed it between his fingers and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply. He smiled to himself. She was breath taking. Still. After all this time, after years together, years apart, two marriages and a shit-storm of problems she was still the most beguiling woman he'd ever seen. He felt halfway aroused as he crouched above her, looking into her face, and then felt slightly ashamed of himself. She wasn't even conscious and he was getting excited. He had to get himself under control, after all, he had a reunion to enjoy with the woman he loved. He grinned when he realised she looked older. Not much, and he knew he'd aged more than she had, but he could see the faint beginnings of creases around her eyes, minute lines by the corners of her mouth, and the general look of a woman who balanced too many things in her life. It did nothing to curb his arousal though. He slipped his hand to rest against her delicate jaw, thumbing at her cheek. He loved her. He couldn't hide it, couldn't contain it and six years of believing she'd been dead in the ground made his eyes sting with tears.

'Fuck,' he growled out loud. This was going to mess him up. Eventually he slid his arms beneath her body and lifted her up, the face washer falling from her forehead. He carried her easily to the couch, where he sat down with her cradled in his lap. Her eyes were shut, her face pale, her lips slightly parted, and he kissed her mouth with no thought to how startled she might be if she came around mid kiss. He pressed his mouth to her cheeks, her neck, the top of her chest not covered up by the burgundy sweater and her moist forehead. His hand was buried in her hair, massaging her head gently, trying to soothe the place where it had hit the tiled floor, while his other was wound around her small waist. After a moment, her eyes flickered open. Her face was red from where his stubble had scratched against her soft skin. She blinked, dazed, and he continued kissing her.

'Michelle,' he murmured, his mouth pressed to her chin. He was in the process of devouring it, nibbling at her fragrant skin, and then he planned on moving to her lips, or maybe to just beneath her eyes, or possibly her collarbone again. Whichever part hadn't received enough of his attention. 'Michelle,' he repeated, his voice gruff. Tears were collecting in his eyes again, and he forced back. 'Baby, you're alive.'

He took her hand in his and gripped it tightly. He kissed her lips again and pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. She stared at him.

'Tony,' she muttered. For a moment, they were very still. She was wrapped up in his arms, he was holding her tightly, and all that could be heard was the muffled sound effects of a Gameboy from up the corridor. Then she seemed to realise something monumental and gasped.

'Let go,' she cried, her voice strangled. She twisted in his grip. 'Oh god, get off me! Let go!'

Tony didn't move.

'Michelle...what?'

She tumbled out from his arms and fell onto the floor, narrowly missing the edge of the coffee table.

'Jesus,' Tony barked, standing up. 'Settle down, you'll hurt yourself.'

Michelle staggered to her feet and backed away from him. She didn't stop until she put the couch between them. Tony stared at her, his mouth hanging open.

'Get out,' Michelle ordered him softly, looking crazed and livid. 'Get away from us. Now.'

'Michelle... it's me.'

'I know what you've done,' she informed him, her voice deadly quiet. Tony stared at her. 'I know what you did in Washington. Get away from us.'

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	5. Chapter 5

Tony had never seen such venom in a single expression before, but here was his wife, looking at him as though repulsed, as though offended by his very existence. This couldn't be right. Something was wrong here. This wasn't how this was meant to be. They'd thought each other dead. Right now, they were meant to be holding each other, making furious love, delirious with the realisation that they were together, alive, one. Instead, there was a couch between him and she'd just ordered him to get out of her apartment. Tony shook his head slightly. Could he be dreaming? Or hallucinating?

Meanwhile, Michelle's eyes finally left his and she scanned the room.

'Mason...' she breathed. Her face became horrified. 'Oh god, what have you done with him? Where is he?'

'The boy's in his room,' Tony said coldly. He felt incensed by Michelle for a moment for thinking he would do something to the child. He watched her shoulders relax slightly.

'You knew I was alive,' Tony stated after a tense moment. 'Didn't you?'

Michelle turned back to him. There was no love in her eyes, not even buried deep beneath the hatred. Tony felt chilled to the core, and was only now facing the real consequences of what he had done

'I knew,' she confirmed. She wrapped her arms around herself. 'I mean...I thought you were dead for years...just like everyone else.'

'How did you find out?'

She chewed her bottom lip for a second.

'I've kept a watch on things in the States. I've been checking my FBI file, running traces on anyone who pulled it up. It was just to ensure I was no longer being pursued, and to check no one new was coming after me. A few months ago I was doing a routine check when I noticed an FBI agent had pulled my file up several times. Not only that, but the agent had dug through all my old CTU records. They'd looked at things like my field training reviews, missions I'd been on, special assignments, operations I'd run point for. This concerned me. Why was this agent so interested in me? I was dead, after all. I got worried, started thinking I'd been in one place for too long. But then I did some digging of my own, just to get an idea of the person delving into my past. Turned out it was a woman. Some FBI agent named Renee Walker.'

Tony was listening intently. He flinched, almost unnoticeably, at the name Renee Walker. He had killed her friend, and remembered the look she'd given him upon their first meeting after the event.

'Renee Walker became an obsession of mine for a while. I made it my business to know as much about her as she knew about me, and still, I couldn't figure out her interest in me. What was she looking for? What drew her so fervently to a dead and buried agent? It was getting to me, worrying me. So then I hacked into the FBI database.'

Tony narrowed his eyes, surprised.

'Oh please,' Michelle said. 'It's been a while, but I still know my way around a computer. It took a few days, but I got through. I tried to connect the dots, tried to put myself in her shoes. What would someone want with my history? What could they be searching for? Then, without any digging at all, I found myself looking at your own file. This surprised me. So it had to do with you and me? I'd come to believe that her interest in me matched that of the men who'd staged my death and tortured me. I thought it was all about the Cyprus recording and everything else that had happened because of it. But no, this had nothing to do with that. I watched Walker's activity for a few days. I enjoyed her tenacity, her work ethic, her attention to detail. She impressed me. And then, out of nowhere, she submitted a photo to your file. A photo of you, dated only weeks before I saw it.'

'That's how you found out?'

She nodded.

'Walker updated the file. You were no longer listed as deceased, but instead labelled 'Missing'. There were details of your recent activities, but only very vague ones. They didn't know much. There was a mention of a man named Emerson; a photo of you and a red headed woman. Of course, I was barely able to contain myself. You were alive. My heart almost exploded. I was alive. We could be together...I was overjoyed...I could barely function.'

She shook her head slightly, her arms tightening around herself.

'I had to go to you. I had to find you and tell you that we didn't have to live without each other any longer. They'd kept us apart for so long, and I wanted you to know they'd torn us away from each other for the last time. The morning I packed up, the morning I prepared to return to the States to find you, I checked the file. It was the morning of Jack's hearing. The morning you nearly had two commercial jets collide. I couldn't believe the things being listed on your file. I couldn't believe the reports filing into the FBI database. There was a mistake...there had to be a mistake. I kept watching the file.'

'Jack got involved – I knew he would. Walker did the right thing, enlisting his help. It was then that her interest in my file made sense. She was investigating you, and obviously thought she might find clues somewhere in my records, things to point her in the right direction, things that might make sense of what you were doing. Then, it seemed you weren't a hostile. It seemed, from the FBI's point of view, that you'd gone rogue, you were part of an independent organisation, working against the terrorists. I discovered that Bill was involved, and Chloe, and I couldn't believe it. I was ecstatic. You were you; not some insane, vengeful lunatic. My husband was still intact...but the next time I checked the file my hopes were quashed. You suffocated a high ranking FBI agent, and bombed dozens more to death. You were on a quest for revenge, a brutish, immoral thing, and you'd destroyed countless lives and endangered thousands more. You were doing all the things we once worked so hard to prevent. The things we'd both, more or less, given our lives to stop.'

Tony allowed her words to hit him, to wash over him, to settle upon him. For the first time, he felt truly ashamed.

'I couldn't let go,' he muttered. 'I couldn't...I couldn't just let them take you from me without taking something from them. I could do nothing but work toward making them pay.'

Michelle raised her hand. He fell silent.

'I spent a very long time thinking about all the women, all the wives, who'd lost their men because of you that day. Women, just like me, had lost their husbands because of mine. I had never felt so mortified, so guilt ridden, so remorseful in my life. I felt disgusted to be associated with you. I felt sickened to be the woman who'd driven you to cause so much pain to so many people.'

Her eyes were glassy, but for one reason or another, Tony was certain she wouldn't cry.

'So yes,' she said, her voice firm. 'I've known you were alive since then. I stayed away. They had you on trial for a whole list of charges, and you deserved every one of them, and you were going to spend your life in jail. I felt almost satisfied. In jail, you were neutralised. In jail, you couldn't kill people, couldn't destroy lives, and couldn't continue to hurt me, to make me ache. It was better that you stayed ignorant of my survival. Who knows what you would have done if you found out. So, I stayed "dead" and continued on with my new life and tried to push you from my mind forever. It took me a long time to deal with what you'd done, but I have. And now, here you are. You escaped, I'm guessing.'

'I heard you were alive,' Tony said, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. 'Of course I escaped.'

'And you thought you could come here, and everything would be wonderful again? I can barely look at you. I'm going to murder Danny with my bare hands. He shouldn't have told you. It's the last thing I wanted,' she told him. 'You need to leave. You need to forget that I exist, forget that we were ever married, forget that we ever even met.'

She turned slightly, as though he was holding her up when she had other more important places to be.

'I'm very serious,' she said. 'Leave. Now.'

Tony didn't move.

'He's mine, isn't he?' he asked quietly. Michelle's eyes flickered to the corridor. Mason could just be heard from his bedroom, laughing in delight at his game.

Michelle looked defeated beyond reason, and ran a tired hand through her hair.

'Of course he's yours,' she said. 'But I don't want you near him. He believes his father is dead, and that's exactly what I'd prefer for him to believe his whole life.'

Her words sent spikes of pain rocketing through him. Her admission nearly sent him spiralling out of control. He had expected this night to be very different from the reality he was enduring. He had expected to reconnect with her, to explain everything, to make her understand. But she had pulled away from him entirely, and he was, for the first time since he'd laid eyes on her so many years ago, entirely without her and her trust. He thought he might be able to wade through this. He thought he could spend time with her, make her understand, make her fall back in love with him again...but now, after the things she'd said concerning their son, he felt destroyed. That child was his boy. His flesh and blood, a child he'd thought he'd lost, a child he'd grieved for. Michelle was going to keep him from his son. She was going to fill the child's head with lies. She had good reason, somewhere deep inside he knew that, but for the moment he felt blinded by rage, by malice, by jealousy. So she got to enjoy their son, she got to raise him and watch him grow, and he had to pretend to be rotting into dust in a coffin?

'He's my son,' Tony gritted out. His teeth were bared he was so enraged. His breaths were short, sharp and painful. 'I'm not gonna let you fuck with that.'

Michelle eyed him, looking defiant, furious and scared all at once.

'Just get out,' she said cruelly.

Tony nodded.

'For now,' he said, his voice menacing. 'For now.'

He crossed to the door, yanked it open and slammed it in his wake.

_Reviews are the opium of the internet x_


	6. Chapter 6

Tony stood in the corridor, breathing hard. She hated him. She couldn't handle what he'd done because of her – _for_ her and their boy. Tony wanted to hate her back. He wanted to hurt her as much as she'd just hurt him. He looked down at his hands. They were curled into shaking fists. Their conversation had disturbed him on many levels, had torn through him, and was still wreaking havoc inside his heart and mind. He wanted to turn back, break down the door, take her in his arms and shake her until she understood. He wanted to force her to forgive him, make her warm to him, order her to hold him back, to kiss him. He wanted the old Michelle, he wanted his wife, not the woman who'd turned from him. He couldn't recognise that Michelle, he couldn't make sense of her. He hadn't really thought much about how she would react to the terrible things he had done. When he was doing them, he didn't have to. She was dead. She would never make him account for his actions and he would never have to face her over it. Once he realised she was alive, he had assumed she had no idea that he was too. He assumed she knew nothing of what he'd done. He had planned, somewhat subconsciously, to skim over the truth, to leave the tormenting details out.

He raked his hand over his head. His hair was short and prickly, the way he'd taken to keeping it lately. He felt enraged. There was seemingly nothing he could do to get through to her, to fix her. But even more than that, she had made him feel regretful, made him feel guilty, and he hated it. He despised it really. He did not want to feel remorse for what he had done, he did not want to feel sorry for causing the people of his country pain, for causing the society and its government anguish. He hated the United States. He did not want to feel like a villain. _They_ were the villains. Not him. It was enraging him that Michelle had teased these feelings out. He did not know how to rid himself of them, or repair her opinion of him. All he knew for certain was that he was not about to let her keep him from his son. She could cast him out, she could reject him, feel appalled by him, but he was not going to let her disease their child's mine. She was not going to turn their child against him, no matter what she felt for him, no matter if she thought he deserved to suffer that way. No way in hell, he thought hatefully.

Inside the apartment, Michelle had yet to move. Her fingers were trembling, her face weirdly frozen. He was here. Here in Toronto. Here in the home she had made for Mason. She had been completely truthful when she'd told him she never wanted him to know she was alive. She wanted him to stay locked away for all his life. She didn't want him to break free and hunt her down. She never wanted to see him, look at him and feel the grief she'd endured because of him come rushing back. She had healed in the months since his crimes in Washington. She had dealt with her guilt, had tried to push past it, tried to tell herself all those people weren't dead because of her. She'd been horribly protective of Mason in those months, more than ever before it seemed. She'd smothered him, kept him close, bought him things, including the ridiculous little computer thing he was currently playing. She'd gone into his room at night and lay down in his little bed and held him. She'd vowed never to tell him who his father really was. She had told him, before any of this that his dad had died before he was born, that he had loved them, and that they would miss him every day. Now, she maintained that belief in his head, even if she knew it was a lie. Some things had changed though. She now avoiding talking about it with Mason, had become less inclined to keep up the glowing comments she'd once mesmerized him with. She had nothing good to say about the man who'd fathered her son, and couldn't pretend even for Mason's sake. He was dead, that was it. That was as far as she could go these days.

Suddenly, Michelle flew soundlessly to the door and locked it. She slid the chain across and set the intruder alarm. She didn't know that Tony was just outside, and heard every move she made. She then crossed to the corridor, padding softly on the carpet, and opened Mason's door. He was lying on his stomach on his unmade bed, gazing at the screen clutched in his hands. His room was cluttered with toys and stuffed animals, mostly crocodiles, lizards and the odd dinosaur. He had a growing penchant for things with fangs and scales, something Michelle had fuelled in the last few months with an influx of reptilian paraphernalia. A green and yellow lava lamp sat blobbing away and glowing warmly on his squat bedside table, and his bookcase was a riot of pictures books, stuffed back in the shelves any which way. Michelle made a mental note to have a session with him on book care. The walls were covered in more of his artwork, a lot of it brought home from school and depicting "My Family." Michelle was present in every edition, curls illustrated lovingly, and there was no father to be seen.

'Hi mum,' he said, turning his happy little face toward her. 'Someone's here. They came in...oh wait...you saw.'

'Yeah, I saw,' she said. Mason blinked, his face suddenly confused.

'You fell on the floor,' he said, as though only just remembering. The excitement of playing his game, a dangerous undertaking considering the all important rule surrounding it, had stolen his attention away from the other events of the night. 'Did you hurt yourself?'

'No, no,' Michelle told him. 'I just slipped. That's what happens when you wear socks on the tiles, remember?'

'Yeah,' he said. He then seemed to realise what he was doing, and looked between the game and his mother, his face suddenly ashamed. 'The person here said it was alright...' he stammered. He looked stricken. 'He said to play it, so I got it...I-I didn't do it by myself. Only because he said.'

Michelle took in a long, slow breath. It was hard to unravel herself from her confrontation with Tony Almeida, harder still to change gears back into motherhood. Eventually, she got her bearings.

'I think I'll be taking that,' she said, going to his bed and prising it from his hands. He looked disappointed, but also quite thankful. Michelle sympathised with him. It was a difficult thing to do: breaking the rules. It had a certain strain on a person, and sometimes being stopped was quite a relief. 'I'll have to find a new hiding place for this now.'

Mason nodded. 'Sorry,' he said quietly.

She smoothed his hair down. It was thick, dark and glossy and seemed to getting curlier by the day.

'It's not your fault,' she told him. 'I'm not mad.'

His shoulders relaxed slightly. 'Good.'

Michelle nodded. 'It's bedtime,' she said. 'You've been up far too late.'

He nodded. 'School tomorrow,' he said happily, kicking the covers away from his legs, so he could settle down on his sheets. 'We've got art in the morning.'

Michelle felt her heart swell. Mason was enjoying school, something that thrilled her. She wasn't sure she could handle it if her son was unhappy.

'No school tomorrow,' Michelle said, removing his second pillow and lifting him slightly so his neck was supported and his head safely away from the wooden head board. She brought the covers up to his neck. 'We've having the day off together.'

Mason looked slightly disappointed as he freed his hands from the blankets. The novelty of his classes had not worn off yet; everyday was a new adventure. His hands found his mother's, something he did without realising it.

'We might stay home and watch movies instead,' she told him. 'And maybe order from Tendelli's for lunch.'

Mason looked ecstatic. 'Pizza!' he said, punching the air.

'The best pizza there is,' Michelle smiled, rubbing his thin little chest, the flannelette material warming under her touch. 'We can stay rugged up and warm all day, and then play Snakes and Ladders. I bet I'll win.'

'You _never_ win,' he said with an enormous, proud smile. He was missing several baby teeth, and his adult replacements were taking their time to make an appearance. It was becoming a concern. A trip to the dentist next week seemed like a wise idea. 'I'm too good at it.'

'I know you are,' she said. She let him win every time they played. She needed to stop that, she thought tiredly. It wasn't good for him.

'Hey, where's my cuddle?' she asked, watching his eyelids droop.

Mason stretched out his hands. He hooked them around her neck and pressed his lips to her cheek.

'Night mum,' he said sleepily. She held him tightly, her face buried in his hair. He smelled so wonderful to her.

'Good night sweetheart,' she murmured. 'I love you with all my heart. Forever and forever.'

'You too,' was the mumbled reply.

He settled back against his pillows, a contented smile on his face, and Michelle eased off his bed and crossed to the door where she switched off the ceiling light. His lava lamp still glowed on, casting a green and yellow blush across his face, protecting him from whatever monsters he suspected lurked in his wardrobe. Michelle doubled checked the heating control by the light switch to check he would be warm enough during the night, glanced over to ensure the blinds were firmly drawn, and then blew him a final kiss and pulled the door closed.

Out in the corridor, she leaned against the wall, feeling frail. Staying home was the best thing for them tomorrow. She was not going to be parted from her son, not after what had just transpired between herself and Tony Almeida. She went into the spare bedroom where she kept her computer, switched it on and composed a short email explaining a sudden sickness and sent it off to her office. Then she went to her room and dropped into bed where she lay awake for hours, feeling exhausted, frantically worried and, to her slight surprise, heartsick.

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	7. Chapter 7

The next day nothing happened. Michelle watched a string of Mason's favourite movies, ate pizza with him, let him win four out of five games of Snakes and Ladders, which he took much better than she expected him to, and read him half the material in his bookcase. She put him to bed early and sat rigidly on the couch, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. She wondered if she should be relieved. She didn't feel it one bit. In fact, it scared her. Where was he? What was he hiding away doing? Was he planning something? She knew she'd hurt him, knew she'd enraged him. He could retaliate. He could do something terrible...

The next day they spent mostly in lock down once more. Mason grew restless after lunch, so Michelle bundled him up and took him very cautiously to the shopping centre around the corner from their building, where she knew it would be crowded. This was a test more than anything else, to see if Tony approached them once they were out of the apartment. They did some light grocery shopping and looked briefly at the small terrier puppies at the pet shop. Mason spent far too long rifling through the displays in a video game store, and then pursuing the aisles of the toy section at the walmart. Michelle didn't take him anywhere quiet, or secluded, and kept to the places where she knew there would be security guards, not that she was certain they'd be able to stop Tony should he try something. She spent the outing looking over her shoulder and she did not, even for a moment, let go of Mason's hand.

By the next morning, Michelle began to feel more confident. She'd seen no sign of Tony and he hadn't come back to the door. She wasn't certain of what had happened. She couldn't even begin to guess at what he was thinking. The Tony she used to know would not have given up so easily, but, she reasoned, she didn't really know him anymore. Mason was missing things at school, and Michelle couldn't avoid going back to work forever, and so three days after Tony had come back into her life, Michelle packed Mason's lunch, wrapped him in his coat, and they went off to school. She felt sick with worry, but what else could she do? She couldn't keep them in lockdown forever, couldn't pause their lives indefinitely. She held her son for a long time at the school gate, promised she'd be there to pick him up the moment the bell rang and watched him hurry inside.

She pushed her curls from her face, her cheeks stinging against the bitter wind. Feeling impossibly torn, she finally turned from the school and made her way to work.

The day went normally, her co-workers, who all called her Camille, expressed their happiness in seeing that she'd recovered from her mystery illness. She thanked them, faked a couple of smiles and buried herself in her work at her desk. It was three o'clock, well after lunch time, when a call came through for her. She picked it up.

'Camille,' came the receptionist's voice. 'There's a Danielle Pullman calling for you, from your son's school.'

Michelle felt the world come to a grinding halt around her.

'Camille Wright?' asked the principals voice once the line was connected.

'Yes, yes, this is Camille,' Michelle said anxiously. 'Where's Mason? Is Mason alright?'

'Ms Wright,' said the frenzied voice. 'Mason didn't come back to class after lunch and his classmates weren't able to tell us where he went. We've searched the school and we think he's left the premises. We're continuing our search, but we need you to come back here now, or go home and see if he's taken himself there.'

'I'm coming,' Michelle said, tears rushing up into her eyes. She couldn't breathe through her hysteria. She'd been expecting this. Of course she had, it was quite inevitable, and though she knew Tony wouldn't hurt Mason she couldn't help but panic. 'I'm coming right now.'

She put the phone down and got to her feet. Almost at that very moment, her mobile phone vibrated inside her handbag. She fished it out, hands shaking, and opened the newest text message. It was from a number she didn't recognise. _He's with me_, the message read, _I took him for lunch. We're back at the apartment now_.

Michelle brought her hand to her face, attempting to compose herself. She then rang the school back, told them there was nothing to worry about, that a relative had taken Mason. She then rang her boss, hurriedly explained a family emergency, and promptly took off for home.

She half walked, half ran up the corridor of her building, and came to a halt at apartment 703. She jammed her key in the lock, stopping only when she realised she could hear crying on the other side of the door. Her eyes widened. Maybe she'd been wrong...maybe Tony _would_ hurt Mason. She rushed to get the door open.

Inside, Mason was curled up on the couch, crying inconsolably. Tony was kneeling in front of him, looking distressed, trying to quieten his son. The moment Mason saw his mother he scarpered away from Tony and ran to her.

'M-Mummy,' he bawled. Michelle lifted him straight up into her arms and he in turn wrapped himself around her, his face burying deeply into her neck, tears streaming freely.

'Mason,' Michelle breathed, holding him tightly, feeling drunk with relief. 'Mason, what's wrong? What happened?'

'I-I...' he gasped for a breath. He was so distraught he could barely speak. 'I d-didn't know where you w-were...'

He spluttered against her skin, his arms tightening around her. 'I w-wanted to stay at school...I wanted you b-but...but I didn't know where y-you were...'

He wailed into her hair, unable to control himself.

'Shhh,' Michelle stroked his back gently. 'What happened? Tell me what happened.'

Mason took a immense breathe before he started talking. 'H-he came at lunch time...and I remembered him and he said we could get whatever I wanted for lunch, and then we could go to the park...' he stopped to take a long, rattling breath. 'But then I remembered school...and I didn't know what was happening and I wasn't sure...I d-didn't know...mummy, I didn't know...'

Michelle rocked him against her, feeling the collar of her suit grow damp from his tears. She could picture exactly how the day had gone. Tony would have come along, taken Mason aside, made delightful promises to him, and Mason would have gone willingly. At some point, he would have thought of school, and subsequently realised he was meant to be in class, not roaming about with his new grown up friend. He would have started to worry and that worry would have evolved into fear, at which point he would have sized Tony up and realised he didn't actually know him, didn't trust him at all. That's when he would have thought of Michelle, and realised all at once that he wasn't at school, or at home, or with someone he knew, and that was bad. This deduction would have scared him half to death, and that's when the tears would have started. Tony did the right thing in taking him back to the apartment, to a place he felt safe, but once Mason was upset, it was hard to calm him back down. Hard for anyone except his mother, of course.

'It's all okay, sweetheart,' Michelle told him. Even as she spoke, she felt his sobs subside. 'Did you have something nice for lunch? Did you? Tell me what you had.'

He nodded feebly against her shoulder. 'M-Macdonald's,' he admitted. Michelle cradled his head in her hand, her fingers tangled in his curls.

'That's sounds lovely,' she said encouragingly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 'Was it lovely?'

He thought for a second. 'Yeah,' he sniffed finally. Now that he was safe once more he was able to look back on the afternoon in a different light. He seemed to realise that it had been, at first, quite enjoyable. 'I got a rocket with my happy meal.'

He pulled back, wiped his face and began playing with the brown curls strewn across his mother's shoulders.

'It lights up,' he informed her.

'Does it?' Michelle asked. 'Well, it sounds very special. We'll have to put it somewhere safe, won't we?'

He nodded.

'Do you feel better now?' she asked softly, looking at him closely, feeling her love for him in every inch of her body.

'Yeah,' he admitted, his eyes still red and swollen, his long eyelashes wet.

'Do you want to watch TV in my room? I think some cartoons might be on.'

'Yeah,'

'Do you remember how to turn it on? And change the channels?'

'Yeah, it's easy,' he laughed. He was already squirming out of her grip and making for the corridor.

'You can't have the volume up high though,' Michelle said suddenly, an idea coming to her.

'Oh...why?' he whined. 'I like it up.'

'No.'

'Please?'

'You can only have it up if you close the door,' she said, hoping he'd take the bait.

'Uh, okay.'

'Promise you'll close it? And keep it closed?'

Mason looked slightly confused. 'Yeah, I said I will.'

'Okay, go on then.'

He ran off. Michelle waited until she heard the door shut with a dull thud before she crossed the room and struck her hand across Tony's face. A sharp crack resonated throughout the otherwise still and silent living room.

While Michelle had tended to Mason, Tony had stood by the couch, watching them closely, feeling aggravated and useless and responsible for the boy's state. He hadn't expected the afternoon to unfold as it had. Taking the boy out for junk food and letting him run wild in the snow at the park seemed like a good idea until the boy had tired himself out and realised he was getting cold and homesick. That's about when things went spectacularly pear shaped. Tony had had to accept the fact that he was not able to comfort his own child, not able to give him the things he really needed, the things that really mattered, and was not able to make him feel safe. A happy meal could win his interest for a short while, but at the end of the day, Tony was a stranger to him, a stranger he did not know well enough to be alone with.

Tony had then felt burning embarrassment at not realising the mistake he made before he made it. He did not know why he'd expected the child to take an immediate liking to him. He did not understand why he'd expected the boy to recognise his authority, the safety he represented and the security he could provide. It had been stupid of him to think he could manufacture a bond with a boy of five years in a single afternoon, and now he felt nothing but ill-equipped and obsolete. He had tried for nearly an hour and a half to staunch the child's tears, something Michelle had irritatingly accomplished the moment she came through the door.

Now, he raised a hand and touched his face. It was stinging quite painfully. Michelle hadn't held back, and she was standing quite close to him now, looking up at him, fury in her eyes, her mouth curling up to form a wicked expression.

'What is _wrong_ with you?' she demanded, her voice trembling. 'Who the hell do you think you are, taking him from school like that? How _dare_ you?'

He stared lazily back at her, his face betraying no emotion. He certainly wasn't about to apologise. He watched tears cloud Michelle's eyes, and she bowed her head to hide them. He felt oddly satisfied at the sight.

It seemed to hit Michelle then just how close they were, and she met his eyes guardedly before taking a quick step back. She brushed the moisture from her face.

'I knew you were going to do something,' she said under her breath. 'The moment I saw you with him the other night I knew you were going to do something to scare me, something to torment me.'

Her hand pressed against her heart. 'I haven't slept in days wondering when you were going to come and interfere. I told you I didn't want you around him. Didn't you hear me? Don't make the mistake of thinking I just said it because I was angry. I meant it. He needs no knowledge of you, no hint of you in his life. My biggest concern now is keeping him ignorant of you.'

Tony took a sudden step forward and for a moment Michelle felt fear stab somewhere in her chest.

'He's mine,' Tony snarled, his face contorted. 'Half mine, at least. I can do whatever I want with him. I can see him whenever I fucking feel like it.'

Michelle opened her mouth, a million retorts coming to mind. She almost couldn't get one out due to an overload of rage at his words.

'No, you can't,' she sneered. 'And anyway...he doesn't want you. He doesn't like you. Not at all.'

She knew it was a low blow, but he deserved it and more. Tony retained his expression, deeply grateful that his poker face prevented Michelle from seeing the despair her words caused him.

'He will in time,' Tony said comfortably, despite wondering if he could believe it himself. 'You've had his whole life to win him over. I haven't.'

Michelle felt as though she was being backed into a corner.

'You can't do this,' she said. 'You can't force your way into his life.'

'I can,' Tony said. 'I have a right to my own child.'

'You forfeited that right when you disgraced him, me and yourself in Washington! You aren't the man I married, or the man I became pregnant to. I don't recognise you as his father. His father is dead.'

Tony stared heatedly at her. She folded her arms. They'd reached a stalemate. She strained for a moment to make out the sound of Mason's cartoon, and when she did felt satisfied that he was oblivious to the furious argument his parents were having over him. She didn't know what she would do if he heard the mention of his name and came to hear more. Michelle looked back at Tony, and then to something which caught her eye on the couch. She leant forward slightly, trying to make it out.

'Oh,' she scoffed, moving around him and snatching the item up. It was a Gameboy DS game, still in its plastic wrap from the store. 'Trying to buy his love, are you? Going to spoil him until he thinks he likes you?'

Tony gave a cold shrug.

'Not unlike the way you spoil him, I guess. Pizza? Letting him win board games? New toys every other day?'

'How did you-?'

'He told me things before he got upset. He answered all my questions, all the things I wanted to know. It was very insightful.'

Michelle threw the game so it landed at his feet as though it was a piece of rubbish, something entirely worthless.

'Take that thing and get out of my home,' she spat at him. 'Don't _ever_ make comments about the way I'm raising him. You have no idea... no idea...' Her words trailed off. Tony tilted his head to the side, his face cold as always.

'I'm coming back tonight,' he told her, 'to tuck him in. What time does he go to sleep?'

She said nothing.

'Fine,' he said. 'I'll make a guess. Let me in when I knock.'

'I will not.'

Another shrug.

'I have a key,' he said. She no idea how he managed that, but it didn't surprise her. She watched lividly as he turned to the door, stalked through it and kicked it shut behind him. The game he'd bought their son lay abandoned on the floor.

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	8. Chapter 8

Michelle threw the game in the bin under the sink and went to watch Mason's cartoon with him, pulling him up to sit against her. They spent the remainder of the afternoon together, and at six o'clock she ran a bath for him. She was beginning to feel nervous, or anxious or something, knowing Tony was coming back later. It made her jittery and clumsy, and she dearly wanted to have the lock changed, but knew all efforts to stop him were futile. He'd just break the door down, or do something worse, like wait for the right time to strike and take Mason away again.

It was as she was crouched by the bath, having bubble fights with Mason and playing underwater games with his little plastic boats that she glanced at her watch. They'd been in the bathroom together for a long while and time was against them tonight anyway. Just as she took his blue towel off the rack, she smelt something and stopped. Mason seemed to smell it at the same time, and frowned.

'Hmm,' he said, mostly to himself as he took the smell in, plunging his red fishing boat deep in the water. 'Yum.'

Michelle opened the bathroom door, strode out into the hall and stopped when she reached the kitchen. Tony was there, resting comfortably against the counter and something was simmering away in a pot on the stove. She wondered how long he'd been roaming around the apartment while she'd been tucked away in the bathroom, playing silly games with their five year old.

They stared at each other, their gazes hard and irascible, for a long moment.

'Been lurking in here long?' she asked unpleasantly. He raised an eyebrow and, without severing their eye contact, reached behind him to give the pot a stir.

'A while,' he said. Beside him was a shopping bag, and around it a few ingredients. 'Made dinner for him.'

Michelle crossed her arms. 'We're going to have something else,' she told him coldly. 'You've wasted your time.'

'Something else?' he asked, stepping toward the freezer and pulling the door open. He looked disdainfully at the contents. 'Something frozen and full of crap? Something easy?'

Michelle hated him in that moment, more than ever. Who was he to judge the general nutrition of her child, to ridicule the diet she planned out for him?

'Possibly,' she conceded. 'He's just not having whatever you've made.'

Tony just nodded. 'We'll let him decide, shall we?'

Michelle clenched her jaw, feeling infuriated.

'I want you out of here and I want you away from us, for good.'

'What if I don't care what you want?'

'Then I'll call the –'

'Who?' Tony cut across her. 'Who are you going to call, huh? The police? For someone in your situation that doesn't seem like a bright idea. Maybe you're thinking of taking me to court too? But you can't do that...can you? We're not exactly an average custody case. I'm a fugitive and you don't exist. You're in hiding, Michelle. I've done some research. I know you've fabricated your Canadian citizenship. Years ago you hacked into their archives and gave yourself a fake identity, fake employment history, fake tax records. Pretty sure that's a serious criminal offense. I'm guessing you don't want anyone to look too closely at that stuff, guessing you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself. So who are you going to help for? Who, Michelle? No one. No one can help you.'

For the first time, Michelle felt truly murderous toward him. His words, so inescapably true, were settling upon her. He was right. No one could help her with this. She was alone against him.

'Muuuuum,' came Mason's voice. 'Can I get out now? I'm cold.'

She turned her back on Tony after a long, scathing look and returned to the bathroom. She quickly pulled Mason from the water, dried him off and helped him into his green pyjamas. She stuck his little feet into his slippers and ran a comb through his hair. They reappeared together in the kitchen just as Tony was serving up the meal he'd prepared.

'Hi Mason,' he said.

Mason stopped when he saw him.

'Oh,' he said. It seemed he wasn't sure if he felt happy or not to see Tony. The memory of the happy meal and its accompanying toy rocket seemed to wrestle with the trauma of the afternoon. After a moment, it seemed mostly everything was forgiven. 'Hi.'

'Do you like spaghetti?'

Michelle rolled her eyes. What a ridiculous question. What five year old didn't like spaghetti?

'Yeah,' said Mason, moving out of his mothers shadow and climbing into his usual chair at the small round dinner table, where he watched Tony closely.

'Good,' Tony said. 'This is spaghetti with special creamy sauce. It has mushrooms in it.'

'He doesn't like mushrooms,' Michelle interjected.

'Actually, I don't mind them,' Mason corrected her, peering, interested, at the stove. Michelle scowled at him. Only last week, he'd declared himself a mushroom hater. Tony held back a small smirk. He had Mason's favourite plastic plate, one with a couple of characters from some Pixar film on it, in hand. He dished the pasta into it, took a plastic fork from the drawer and set the meal in front of his son.

'Do you like garlic bread?' he asked.

Michelle made a small, helpless sound and brought her hand up to rub at her eyes.

'Oh, yeah!' Mason exclaimed, just as she knew he would. 'I love it!'

'Good,' Tony said, removing a foil package from the oven. Inside was homemade garlic bread, and it smelled delicious. He set it on a bread board in the centre of the table.

'We'll let it cool for a moment,' he said firmly, just as Mason's out went out to touch it. The boy froze.

'Oh, okay.'

Tony poured some water into a plastic cup and added that to the culinary collection in front of his child. Mason took up his fork and began eating with gusto. He seemed to go into some sort of food high, talking under his breath to himself between bites and looking generally thrilled at the fare. Michelle felt slightly guilty. They did eat a lot of frozen food; a lot of readymade meals bought from a deli down the street and heated up in the microwave. To have a meal cooked from scratch, right there, in the apartment, was a very novel idea to him.

Michelle realised, as she watched him, that she couldn't begrudge him this pleasure. She did, after all, understand the intensity of his enjoyment. Once upon a time, years ago, after she'd spent a life eating frozen and readymade meals, she'd tasted Tony's cooking for the first time too. She watched Mason wolf down another bite, gasping a little from the hit of flavours and the rich, buttery texture. Something tugged at her memory. It was a very long time ago, but she felt almost certain that Tony's mushroom pasta had been the first thing he'd made for her too. She glanced at him. He seemed aware of her realisation, and she wondered if he'd done it consciously.

After a moment, he turned from her, took a china plate from the cabinet, filled it and slowly returned to the table. He set the plate down at the place setting closest to the Michelle along with a fork, and then stepped back. She watched him scornfully.

'Aren't you having any?' Mason asked him through a mouth full of food. Michelle shot her son a withering look. She wanted to remind him that this was the man who'd frightened him so badly just this afternoon, but Mason seemed to have put the incident completely from his mind.

'Uh,' Tony said. He looked at Michelle. She tried to warn him against it with her eyes, but that seemed only to encourage him. 'Yeah. Yeah, I'll have some.'

In no time at all Tony and Mason were sitting together at the table, happily devouring their meals. The garlic bread had cooled, and they were ripping through it piece by piece. They were even talking. Tony had obviously been collecting an arsenal of kid's jokes and was reeling them off to Mason, who acted as though he'd never heard funnier things in his whole little life. Michelle's plate sat untouched, and she stood where she was until Mason gave her a concerned look. She allowed herself a slow, anguished breath and sat down. Tony was across her, and their child between them.

Mason started telling Tony jokes of his own, harmless things he'd heard in the playground, and Tony laughed for him even though he muddled most of the punch lines. Then Tony started asking about school. Did Mason pull any pranks on his teachers? Did he break the rules? Did he have a girlfriend?

At the last question Mason froze, took it in and then erupted in a shout of unrestrained laughter, as though he'd never been asked something so hilarious, so inappropriate, so insane, in his life.

'Noooooo,' he giggled hysterically, his face red and his eye bright. He struggled for breath. 'Gross.'

Tony laughed deeply. 'Tell me about it,' he agreed. 'Girls can be trouble.'

'Uh-huh,' Mason concurred, gazing at him with what Michelle miserably recognised as reverence. 'And they don't play anything good either.'

'Or like the colour green,' Tony supplemented. Mason nodded fervently, his expression changing suddenly to outright affection for the man at his table. Michelle sent Tony an evil look. Trust him to use Mason's love affair with the colour green to get him onboard.

'Or like dinosaurs.'

'And they're no good at baseball.'

Mason nodded, and then stopped. 'What's that?'

Michelle had the sudden urge to bang her head against something.

'Are you serious?' Tony asked. 'You know...baseball.'

Mason screwed up his face. 'With the ball and the net?'

'No, that's basketball, which is fine, but baseball is different. Better. The best, really.' Tony looked at Michelle, angered by this. Baseball was played in Canada, that much he knew, and he found it inexplicably annoying that she'd not taken their son to see a game. 'It's fun, I think you'll like it.'

Mason shrugged. 'Okay,' he said, reaching for another piece of garlic bread. His eyes hadn't left Tony since the joke exchange had begun over half an hour ago.

'What's the team here?' Tony asked Mason through his own chunk of bread, as though Mason was likely to know. 'The Toronto team? I can remember it.'

'Umm,' Mason said, thinking hard just because Tony seemed to be thinking hard too.

'The Blue Jays,' Michelle muttered flatly, her forehead cradled in her palm. It was the first thing she'd said since she sat down.

'Right,' Tony said. 'The Toronto Blue Jays. We can support them, seeing as you live here. Seems right to me.'

'Okay,' Mason said, though Michelle suspected he was merely agreeing because he wanted Tony to like him.

This distasteful banter continued between them long after Mason had taken his last bite. It didn't much time after that for Michelle to realise she'd had enough.

'Time to brush your teeth,' she said abruptly, getting to her feet. 'Then bed time. You've had a big day, and its school tomorrow.'

'Aw, no,' he said, looking annoyed. Michelle blinked. He rarely got annoyed with her. In fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen his face dressed in this exact expression before. It ate at her, because he suddenly looked so much like his father with his eyes narrowed and his jaw set like that. For a moment it truly struck Michelle just how much he had of Tony, and how little he had of her.

'Can't I stay up?' he asked. He looked at Tony as though for support, which Tony had the good sense not to lend. Michelle felt so many things as she stood there, with Mason pleading with her to extend his time with his father. She felt threatened, she felt forgotten, and she felt like she'd just been eclipsed by a mass murderer as the most important person in her son's life.

'No,' she said, lifting him from the chair. He struggled.

'Please mum,' he said, looking distraught. He glanced longingly back at Tony. 'Please let me stay. Just for a bit. I'm being good.'

'No, it's bed time.'

Michelle was already taking him back up the corridor. He fought against her,

'That's not fair,' he said, his voice cracking slightly. 'I really want to.'

Michelle ignored him and took him into the bathroom where she supervised his tooth brushing. He glared at her in the mirror the whole time.

'Why not, mum?' he continued to ask through the toothpaste. He had tears in his eyes, though he held them back. Perhaps he didn't want to cry with Tony around. 'I was having fun.'

'Do you want to be tired for school tomorrow? Don't you want to have lots of energy to play with your friends?'

He heaved a sulky sigh.

'Yeah,' he said finally. Michelle took him to bed and, to his glee, read his favourite story three times. Then she kissed him, held him for a very long time, and left him to sleep off a very full stomach, which was already lulling him under. She was closing the door and wiping her eyes when she remembered Tony was still in the kitchen. She returned softly to the place of her evening agony, feeling exhausted, feeling beaten down.

Tony was still sitting in his chair, watching her.

'You didn't have to do that,' he said quietly. 'Pull him away like that. We were having fun. It wasn't right.'

'I'll determine what's right,' she told him. She didn't really have the strength for their next argument, which was waiting just in the wings. 'I'm his mother.'

Tony watched her move around the table, collecting the crockery from dinner. He watched her hand move toward him and take his empty plate. He felt a bolt of desire crash through him as he took in her fingers, her wrist, the skin of her forearm, all of it so close to him. He wanted to knock the things from her hand, take her to the wall and ravage her. He wanted to press himself against her, wanted to shred her clothes with his hands, wanted to pound into her, not caring whether she wanted it or not. He wouldn't. He knew he would never, but the desire was there, surging inside him, taking him over. It caught him by surprise. He'd never felt so much detestation and so much longing for the same person at the same time before. This was the woman keeping him from his son, then again, this was _his_ woman, and he wanted her badly. They were two clashing emotions, two opposite feelings that didn't go hand in hand, and they battled within him. Tony gave himself a slight shake, something she didn't notice, and he forced himself to focus on other things.

'You didn't touch your food,' he said, as she lifted her full plate off the table and emptied it in the bin. She dropped the other plates in the sink. He swivelled around in his chair to watch her.

'Wasn't hungry.'

'You didn't have lunch either though,' he said.

She stilled, warm water from the tap running over her hands as she began to wash the dishes. She turned around, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, droplets running off her fingers.

'How did you know that?'

'Been watching you,' he said. Michelle closed her eyes, praying for patience, praying for strength.

'Right,' she said as she turned back to the dishes, acting as though this had no effect on her.

'So you work at a security company?' he asked.

'Yes,' she said. 'Um, it's for large scale businesses and events. I mostly do intranet security for corporations. It was the only thing I could do that didn't involve a learning curve or a government pay check.'

'Yeah,' he said. 'I know what you do. How much you earn. Where your desk is. You're a bit overqualified for the work they've got you doing, aren't you?'

Michelle chose to ignore that Tony knew all the details of her professional life.

'Perhaps,' she said. 'But I don't want to move up.'

'Why not?' Tony asked. He knew she'd never been crazed with ambition, but she never shied away from a promotion, especially when she deserved it.

'Because this position gives me flexible hours,' she said, brushing a curl from her face with her back of her soapy hand. 'As long as I finish the work for the day, I can leave at three to pick up Mason.'

'What did you do before?'

'Before?'

'Yeah, he only started school a few months ago. What happened before that?'

'Oh,' Michelle said. 'There's a day care centre in the building. That way I could have lunch with him each day, and see him in my breaks. Before that, I was just at home with him.'

'Oh.'

Michelle suddenly realised, with a sharp intake of breath, that Tony had left his chair. He had come up behind her, was now leaning against the countertop again, well within a foot of her. The realisation had startled her, and he stared unashamedly into her eyes, taking her in, his eyes roving across her face. She didn't move as she up to her elbows in dirty water. She was also slightly paralysed by his overwhelming proximity.

His hand left his pocket, moved toward her face. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, and she glared at him, not wanting to lean away, not wanting him to think she was scared of him. His hand didn't caress her cheek as she thought it might, or attempt to touch her neck. It merely went to one of the curls dangling by her ear, where he brushed a few soap suds from the strands. He held the curl between his fingers for a long moment, his eyes dark, his face mostly expressionless.

'Don't touch me,' she finally said, breaking away from him and pulling her hair free. 'Don't ever come that close again.'

Tony nodded. He'd been expecting to hear something along those lines and he let her move away.

'You don't have a lot of money,' he said after a moment.

Michelle frowned at him. She hadn't been expecting him to say something like that.

'I looked through your banks accounts,' he admitted, looking tremendously unashamed. 'You bought this place a year and a half ago...when you couldn't really afford it.'

Michelle wiped her hands on a cloth and settled against the opposite countertop, watching him through narrowed eyes.

'I understand why,' he said. 'It's close to Mason's school, close to your office, it's very secure and there's a park a block down. But still, your mortgage absorbs most of your monthly pay.'

Michelle folded her arms, wondering where this was going.

'Mason's school isn't cheap either,' he said. 'There are more affordable schools around...'

'There are, yes,' she said. 'But his offers reading programs, special math tuition, dozens of extracurricular options and they just built a brand new sporting centre.'

Tony nodded. 'I know,' he said. 'I looked into it. It's an excellent school.'

Michelle swallowed, watching him. He was staring at the floor.

'So' he continued, 'between your mortgage, his school fees, food, bills and every other silly thing you get him, you're stretched pretty thin.'

'We're managing,' she told him snappily, feeling defensive. It was true that money was tight. The apartment was far too costly for her small salary and the school was quite expensive, but she had it under control. She'd worked out a strict budget and she stuck to it. Whatever was left over went into a very modest savings account – one she'd had to dip into a few times – and a few nice things for Mason.

Tony's hand went up to scratch at his face.

'I've deposited my funds into your accounts,' he explained suddenly. 'Most of it went into that ridiculously small savings thing you've got, the rest into your regular one.'

Michelle blinked.

'I don't want your money,' she said truthfully, despite knowing a lot of her daily stresses would be alleviated by Tony's gesture. 'Not a single dollar.'

'Well,' he said gruffly. 'It's there now. Do what you want with it.'

He suddenly sounded as exhausted as she felt, and looked wretched and depressed.

'I'm going now,' he said, making for the door. 'Hug him for me, alright?'

Michelle's eyes followed him as he went through the living room, opened the door and walked out into the corridor. He shut the door softly behind him, and she was left standing alone in the kitchen, feeling bewildered.

_Cheers for the reviews, guys – I appreciate it xoxo_


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, Michelle took Mason to school, took herself to work, and waited for the phone to ring. She waited to receive the call that would tell her Mason had disappeared from school again. But no such phone call came through. She left just after three and stood at the school gates and watched Mason hurry out to her, his bag bouncing on his back.

Feeling suspicious, Michelle took him home. She listened to how his day had been, looked at his new artwork and played Snap with him. The night came upon them early in winter, the sun disappearing in the late afternoon, and it snowed outside. When it reached six o'clock, she took him into the bathroom. She kept the door open, half her attention on bathing Mason, the other half on any sounds that occurred outside. Just as she expected, she heard the front door open. She heard movement in the kitchen, the sound of the stove top turning on, the thump of the fridge door opening and closing. Within minutes, the smell of onion, herbs and sizzling beef reached them.

'Mmm,' Mason said. 'Yum.'

Michelle sighed. She didn't know what she was going to do. She couldn't just accept this. Tony wouldn't be ignored. He wouldn't allow her to do as she wanted, which was to shut him out. She knew he was making an effort, but it would never cancel out all the horror he had wrought. It could never exonerate him of his crimes; crimes he had inadvertently made Michelle responsible for. He had destroyed her, and their history together at CTU. He had spat on their professional lives. He had undone all the good they did.

She dried Mason off, put him in his pyjamas and followed him out into the kitchen.

'Hi,' Mason said to Tony, climbing into his chair. 'You're back.'

Tony was placing grilled steaks, sautéed vegetables and a good helping of gravy on three plates.

'I am,' he said. 'You hungry?'

'Yeah.'

'Good.'

Tony placed his Pixar plate in front of him. Michelle noticed that he'd cut the steak up into bite sized pieces, and had scattered grated cheese over the vegetables. The cup of water was already on the table.

Mason grabbed his fork and plunged it into the bits of beef.

'Hey,' Tony said. Mason looked up at him. 'You have to wait for your mother.'

Mason thought this over for a moment. It seemed despite the liking he'd taken to Tony the previous night that he wasn't overjoyed at being admonished, particularly not by someone new, especially not in his house.

'I don't have to,' he said somewhat haughtily, moving his fork back to his plate and stabbing at the food. 'She doesn't make me.'

'Hey,' Tony said, coming closer to him and taking the fork straight out of his hand. Mason, who tried to take it back but couldn't reach, frowned at him. 'You have to wait for your mother to join you before you start eating.'

'Why?'

'Because she's your mother,' Tony said, 'and it's good manners.'

Jokes and silly questions were just fine, but it seemed Mason decided he really didn't like the man in dark clothes when the man in dark clothes reprimanded him. He didn't like it one bit.

'Mum,' he said immediately. 'Mum, I'm hungry.'

'Give him the fork,' Michelle said resignedly. She didn't really like it when the man in dark clothes reprimanded her son either.

'I will,' Tony said calmly. 'In a moment. Mason, you're not going to eat until your mother is at the table with her own plate. Understand?'

'Okay,' Mason said, pouting slightly. 'I won't. Just give me back my fork.'

'Please,' Tony said. 'You didn't say please.'

Michelle watched him through all this. She wasn't sure if Tony was making Mason show her respect just to get on her good side, or if he really thought it was something his son should do.

'Please,' Mason said, getting visibly frustrated. 'Please give me my fork.'

Tony slipped it into his hand.

'Good,' he said. He placed a full plate in front of Michelle, and then brought his own to the table and sat down. He watched Michelle closely. Mason did too. They were both waiting for her. Not wanting to keep Mason from his dinner, she slid into her chair. Mason ignored both his parents as he went about filling his mouth, going into his own little world. He did not notice them staring at each other from across the table, and seemed oblivious to their conversation.

'Eat,' Tony said to her.

Michelle did not touch her cutlery.

'I don't want it.'

'What, you going on a hunger strike? Is that how you think you're gonna get rid of me?'

'No,' Michelle said honestly. 'I don't think that would deter you in the slightest. I just don't want to eat something you've made.'

'Eat it,' Tony said. 'You're like a skeleton.'

She shrugged, glancing at Mason to ensure he was still absorbed in his dinner.

'I've had a lot on my mind,' she said quietly. 'After learning of your activities in our country's capital I lost my appetite for a while. A long while, actually.'

Tony pushed a piece of carrot around his plate.

'Eat,' he said again.

Several nights passed in which Tony's intrusion became routine. He entered the apartment every evening during Mason's bath and had dinner ready for them by the time Michelle had him clothed. Sometimes he and Mason didn't get along. These were the nights when Mason forgot to wait for Michelle to arrive at the table, or forgot to use his manners, and these dinners were quiet, uncomfortable affairs. On the nights he remembered, there were stories about school and jokes to be swapped and the rules of baseball to be explained between bites of food. Then, Michelle would take Mason to bed, and Tony would do the dishes, and they would meet for a tense moment in the kitchen before Tony excused himself for the night and left.

This went on for two weeks. It became normality, a normality Michelle hated, one she wished she could do away with. Her disgust for Tony seemed to ease slightly She was not forgetting, or forgiving him, but finding her contempt less jarring. It was getting easier to live with her hate, to make it apart of her daily life. It was less noticeable now, instead just something to be endured every night. They didn't say much to each other, and if they did the things that were said were purely practical. One asking the other to pass something, Tony telling Michelle to eat, Michelle telling Tony not to frustrate their son.

One night, Michelle stepped out of Mason's room where he was already fast asleep. He'd had sport at school that day, as well as rehearsal for a concert his class was putting on, and he had been exhausted for most of the evening. She closed the door gently and returned to the kitchen to find Tony staring at the window sill by the pantry. On it was a photo in a frame. Mason was three, and Michelle was holding him close. They were both wearing party hats, there was cake in the picture, and it looked like they were out to lunch somewhere child-friendly. There was no one else at the table with them, and Tony guessed the photo had been captured by a waiter.

Michelle knew Mason had changed a lot since then. He'd lost his baby fat, his face was no longer quite so round, and he'd mislaid several teeth. His hair was longer, his nose had lengthened and his jaw was becoming sharper, like Tony's. Exactly like Tony's.

Tony seemed to finally realise Michelle had reappeared. He cleared his throat, and scratched his face and Michelle wondered if he did these things to cover up whatever emotion the photo had evoked in him.

'Can I uh...' he cast around for a moment. 'Can I have this?'

'No,' Michelle said. He nodded. He'd been expecting that exact response. For the first time, Michelle felt as mean as Tony probably thought she was.

'But I...um...' she took a stabilising breath. 'Look, just...just stay here for a moment.'

She headed toward her bedroom, her steps soft, and came back a few moments later, a large gold album in her arms.

'Here,' she said, holding the book out, making sure no part of her came into contact with him as he took it. 'If you really want it, I guess you can have one of these. Just of him, though. Not of me.'

Tony held the album, a heavy, full-to-the-bursting tome. He seemed overwhelmed for a moment, and turned slowly from her so he could sit down with it on the couch in the living room. Michelle followed from a safe distance, and watched on. Tony flicked open to any old page, and his reaction to what he found was instantaneous. His breath hitched, his shoulders sagged, his hands trailed across the plastic covering on each photo. Mason was there, grinning up at him at age four, three, two, one, an infant, a boy, a figure dangling from monkey bars, a silhouette on the beach. Tony's face was both elated and devastated and Michelle felt similar emotions steal through her. She took a ragged breath.

'When was this?' Tony's voice was thick, brusque, protective of himself.

'Which one?' Michelle asked, craning her neck to see.

'This one,' Tony said, indicating to a photo of his son on a bridge. The sky behind him was grey and his hair was blowing in the wind. He looked unhappy, but smiled anyway for the camera.

Michelle inched closer, and sat gingerly on the arm of the couch, the opposite end to the one Tony occupied.

'The River Thames,' she said. 'In London.' Tony looked at her.

'London?' he asked. Michelle nodded.

'Up until two and a half years ago we moved around constantly. I was being followed. We didn't stay in one place longer than a month.'

'Really?' Tony asked. He hadn't known this.

'Yes,' Michelle said. 'Turn to the next page.'

He did as she asked and found a photo of Mason sitting at the base of a palm tree, looking tanned and happy, surrounded by white sand. Beside it was a photo of him on the steps of a temple in Laos, and under that one of both him and Michelle in what looked like Spain or Portugal.

'He was born in Nova Scotia,' Michelle said. 'I made sure of that. I wanted him to be a Canadian citizen – a proper one. It felt like the right choice for the life we would eventually be able to live in peace.'

Between one of the pages Tony found a creased copy of a birth certificate. He flattened it out and read it.

'You named him Mason,' he mused quietly, as though seeing the name in writing cemented the fact in his head. 'Why?'

Michelle flung him a dirty look.

'You know why,' she said.

She was perfectly right. Tony did know.

'Mason Wright. So, not Almeida?' he ventured on.

Michelle stared at him.

'Of course not,' she said. 'Giving him that name would've been even more dangerous than giving him mine.'

Tony took this in, and then flipped right to the front of the album. He found what he'd been looking for. There was Michelle, sitting propped up in a hospital bed, her curls sticking to her forehead, her face flushed. In her arms was a newborn version of Mason wrapped in a pale blue blanket, pink skinned and with a full head of dark hair. Michelle looked quite sickly, Tony realised suddenly, and very frail.

'Was it hard?' he asked. 'His birth?'

He knew Michelle was watching, but he couldn't stop himself from placing his hand on the photo, his fingers across her face. He could barely draw breath.

'I've...I've done easier things in my life,' she said nonchalantly. A little too nonchalantly.

Tony was suddenly overcome with a desperate sense of loss. He had sharing this with her. Why had he missed this?

'How did he survive?' he asked, his voice cracking. He had starting crying, and though he wanted to conceal it from Michelle, he was too taken with the photo to try. 'How did he survive the bomb in our car? I don't understand...'

Michelle shrugged. 'I've wondered that all his life,' she said. 'I was healthy, he was strong and up until then I'd been very careful about things...'

'You wouldn't drink coffee, or eat all these certain foods. You took dozen of those supplements,' Tony remembered.

Michelle nodded. 'I'm not sure any of that saved his life. Perhaps it was the way my body was positioned when the bomb detonated. Perhaps the fact that I wasn't very far along. I have no idea.'

Tony hadn't lifted his gaze from the photo of Michelle and his new born baby in the hospital.

'When they took you away,' Tony whispered. 'H-how did he survive that?'

Again, Michelle shrugged. She had shifted to sit on the couch with him, albeit as far from him as possible. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. There were tears glistening in her eyes now too. 'When I was in the coma, he was quite safe. I think the coma saved his life. It gave my body time to repair, time to restrengthen. Of course...I have no idea how he survived what happened after...'

Tony looked at her then, sick with guilt, sick with the pain of knowing they'd tortured her and he'd done nothing to help her. He hadn't even known.

'They held me for a long time,' Michelle said. 'And I was certain I'd lost him. If I hadn't lost him in the explosion, then I was bound to lose him to the strain of the torture. When I escaped, I ran and kept running. I didn't stop for weeks. I didn't even realise that he was still growing inside me until one day I couldn't button up my jeans. Everything changed that day. I had to stop and revaluate everything. I had to form serious plans. I kept moving until ten days before my due date, when I headed to Canada. I went into labour the same day I arrived.'

Tony looked back down at photo.

'The labour was long,' Michelle said. She wiped beneath her eyes. 'I'd sustained internal damage in the bomb, and the torture, some of which was by way of an injected drug, had weakened my blood. I don't know if I should tell you this, but...I've always suspected that it was the Cordilla virus that saved my life and Mason's. The immunity I'd built up all those years ago in the Chandler Plaza Hotel had stayed with me. It not only protected me against the virus, but against all sorts of things that would later come to threaten my health and Mason's while I was pregnant with him. It was as though that immunity built walls around him, made him survive, and made him sturdy.'

Tony was still staring hard at the photo.

'You gave birth alone?' he asked.

'There were nurses and doctors,' she said. 'Several doctors, actually. But yes...I was alone. It wasn't easy. There was a moment when they thought I'd lost him. I'd been through so much physically...I almost lost hope. But then he arrived, crying his eyes out...and they cleaned him off and gave him to me and that's when the photo was taken.'

She cried quietly, her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm.

'I-I missed you so much that day.'

Tony turned to her, and she to him. It seemed they knew exactly what the other was about to do, exactly what the other was thinking. They came together and their lips met, so softly, for a lone moment. No other part of them touched. Michelle felt his kiss, he registered hers, and though nothing was resolved they both found something real and tangible in the taste of each other's tears. A moment later it was over. Before Tony even realised what had taken place Michelle had left him and was disappearing up the corridor. He heard her bedroom door close, and could just make out the sound of a single stifled sob.

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	10. Chapter 10

Tony sat on the couch for a long time, not knowing what to do or where to go. He supposed he should return to the little room he'd rented in a ragged building down the street, but for the moment he couldn't even remember where that was. She'd kissed him. Wait. Maybe he'd kissed her. He didn't know, but it didn't matter. They'd done it together. It had been a chaste kiss. Their lips had barely even touched, really, and it had only been for a second. Not even when they'd first started dating had they kissed like that. He allowed himself a pained smile. None of their kisses then had been chaste.

He understood that, after they'd both endured the tale of Mason's birth, she had been in a state of agony. She hadn't known what to do. He understood. After hearing her story, he had had to clench his own muscles to keep them from allowing his arms to reach out for her. He'd had to resist pulling her against him, cradling her, touching his lips to whatever part of her was nearest. He had to prevent himself from doing what felt so natural at such a time. She in turn, had experienced once again all the emotions she'd felt from that day more than five years ago. Fear, pain, excitement, despair, loneliness. She kissed him the way they would have had Tony been by her side when Mason had come into the world. She kissed him in a way that would have celebrated their new born child. It had been gentle, exhausted and fleeting, but it had happened.

Tony looked through the album, trying to settle on a photo. He didn't care that Michelle had specified it to be just of Mason. He needed her in it. He took one of them together, a recent one, on Mason's first day of school at the school gates. Then he took the photo from his birth and stored them both in his pocket. He went down to an all night convenience store and had them both copied. He then brought the originals back and slotted them into the album before taking himself back to his rented room for the night.

He lay awake for hours, thinking. He realised that, despite her wishes to keep him and Mason apart, he owed her so much. She had brought life to their tiny child at a time when she was lost and alone. She had moved from country to country with him as an infant, something he imagined would have been impossibly draining and frustrating even without the added distress of people following her. She had taken care of him, had clothed him, fed him, kept him from danger, loved him and how? With what money? With what support? With what promise that things would one day be alright? She wouldn't have known then, as she toted a needy toddler from place to place, that things would settle down eventually. Her life would have been madness. It would have been lonely, and isolating and stressful. But she'd done it.

Then, she'd spent the last few years carefully crafting a life for him in a stable, loving environment. She'd bonded with him, she'd taught him he was safe with her, that there was nothing to be afraid of. Tony rubbed his eyes roughly. He couldn't fathom what she'd been through. He couldn't see how she'd done it, how she'd come out the end of it all, how she'd pulled it off so well. She'd struggled with money – was still struggling with money – and had neglected herself and her own needs for so long. He owed her his child's life, his child's happiness and health. He imagined how she saw it. To her, he had just blown in and demanded to be given access to their child after she'd done everything on her own. He throbbed with shame, with guilt. And where had he been? Running around with Emerson's men, feeling vilified by the government as he lamented in his losses, feeling furious and sorry for himself. Of course, had he known the truth about her, he would have been there. He wouldn't have let her or their son out of his sight, would have shared every trial and tribulation of parenthood with her right from his conception to now. It wasn't his fault or hers that he'd not been there, but still, the things he demanded of her now were inexcusable. The stress he was adding to her life, after she'd tolerated so much already, made him feel despicable, and even worse than that, he had no idea how to fix it.

The next morning, while at work, Michelle received a text message. _I'll pick him up today_, it read. She tapped her thumb against the side of her phone for a moment. Well, she thought, at least that would make Mason happy. Whether they were getting along every night or not, Mason had grown used to Tony's presence. He had starting asking for him when he wasn't there, so a surprise appearance after school was sure to thrill him. Michelle imagined sweets or ice cream factoring into the afternoon, and for some reason didn't feel quite so threatened as usual. She also knew that Mason wouldn't get upset this time. Tony was becoming a trusted friend, an adult who, when Michelle wasn't around, was the person Mason had started looking to for authority and guidance.

After a moment, Michelle returned her own message to him, something she hadn't done before.

_Will you stay with him for the afternoon?_

The reply came through quickly.

_Why?_

She knew that Tony would have stayed with him anyway, and that the message was merely curious. Michelle wondered for a moment if she should feel embarrassed or guilty over what she was about to write, but the truth was that she was quite desperate to grab a few new things for herself – all on sale, if she could manage it – and to see to some long overdue concerns, and this might be her only opportunity for a while. When she wasn't at work, her evenings and weekends were about Mason, and she rarely got even a few minutes to herself anymore.

_I might be later than usual. If you're going to stay with him I can take care of some things before I get home. _

_Some things?_

_A doctor's appointment._

_What's wrong?_

_Nothing. Just a routine appointment. And I might go shopping quickly, if time permits. Do you mind?_

It took quite some time before the phone displayed a new message.

_Of course not, _it read._ Take as long as you want. _

It was dinnertime when Michelle arrived home to cheering inside her living room. Mason was jumping up and down on the couch, a kid's sized baseball bat swinging wildly in his hands. Tony was throwing a soft, squishy version of a baseball to him, and Mason seemed to be getting fairly skilled at hitting it back across the room. The TV was on in the background, Ben Ten featuring loudly. Michelle noticed the living room looked a little wilder than usual, and that some things were out of place. She wondered how many times the lamp had been knocked off the table by the door and how many books had been dislodged from the mantel and quickly replaced.

'Mum!' Mason said breathlessly as she closed the door behind her. 'Look what Tony got me.'

He held the bat up high in the air, nearly taking out the light bulb above him.

'And the ball,' he said, waving the bat at Tony. Tony held the ball up so Michelle could see. 'And this Blue Jays hat.'

Michelle blinked at the cap sitting low on her sons head. It was a too big, but he shucked it back from his eyes and grinned toothlessly. Michelle realised she only felt a twinge of irritation, instead of a crashing wave of it.

'Hi sweetheart,' she said. 'They're lovely. Did...did you thank Tony?'

'Yes,' Mason said. 'He made me.'

Michelle suppressed a smile. Another man would've let the manners thing go, too concerned with keeping the child happy to make a point. Tony was different though. Mason could have things so long as lessons - lessons that were important to Tony - were learned at the same time.

'Where've you been?' Mason asked.

'Shopping,' Michelle said with a demure smile. She showed him the bags in her hands. 'I'll go put these down and I'll be right back, okay?'

Mason nodded and turned back to Tony, one eye on the ball, the other on the TV. Michelle followed the corridor to her room, where she sat on the bed for a long moment, kicking off her shoes and rubbing the soles of her feet. She laid her new clothes out on the bed and looked over them, glad to have made the time to get them. She rubbed her neck for a few minutes, feeling tired, and let her hair loose from the clip at the base of her neck. She got up, pulled off her jacket and hung it up. She unbuttoned her blouse and placed it in a drawer. Just as she was moving around the room to find a soft sweater she noticed movement at the half closed door. Tony stood at the threshold, his face slightly uncomfortable, and he looked down at the floor.

'Sorry,' he said huskily. Michelle just stood where she was by the bed, in only her black skirt and a bra, a practical white thing beautified with a small amount of lace. She felt her face flush and her heart beat fiercely. She wanted to cover herself with her arms or turn away from him but for some reason the idea felt foolish. It would have shown, quite clearly, that she was afraid of him, shy around him, that he made her nervous.

'I...ah,' he muttered. He looked just as he had when she'd slapped him two weeks ago. 'You were taking your time and I just wondered...what do you want for dinner? Mason doesn't know, and I don't mind cooking something specific...if there is something you want.'

He lifted his gaze and found her again, standing where she was when he'd glimpsed her for a few brief seconds before she knew he was there. With so much skin on display, skin he'd spent years laving and nuzzling and caressing, he'd felt all his self control abandon him. Now, it was only her glare, half defiant, half nervous, that deterred him from coming closer.

'N-no,' she murmured. 'There's nothing specific. I d-don't mind.'

She looked so strangely elegant standing there, her shoulders bare, her back straight. The white lace contrasted with the no-nonsense black skirt, and the effect was dazzling. He hadn't taken his eyes from her, and they ran the length of her body several times. Then he found himself squinting through the soft light of her bedside lamp.

'Michelle,' he uttered, taking a step forward. Across her stomach, up over her chest and along her arms were scars. They were thin, and had healed well, and at first glance they were almost unnoticeable. For the first time, the true horror of Michelle's torture struck him. They had cut into his pregnant wife, they'd made her writhe in agony, and now, standing across from her, he wasn't sure he could handle looking at the marks that lingered from those weeks of her life.

'They did that to you?' he asked quietly. Michelle ran her fingers over her ribcage, feeling the raised, damaged lines of flesh.

'It was years ago,' she said, just as softly. 'I forget I have them.'

Tony seemed unable to move.

'It's alright,' Michelle said. Her voice was reassuring. It was without its usual traces of animosity, devoid of anger. It was a voice made only to soothe. 'It's alright. They aren't painful or anything.'

'But they were once,' he said lowly. Michelle gave a tiny one shouldered shrug. She still hadn't moved.

Tony allowed himself to rake his gaze over her again. He suddenly began feeling ravenous and animalistic, need rushing through his blood. The scars upset him, distressed him, really, but he couldn't ignore the fact that his wife was standing there, displayed for him to take in. Her curls framed her face, her eyes were bright, and her breasts lifted with each intake of breath. He wanted to sink into her, wanted to claim, wanted to hold her, trapped, against him.

'What's Mason doing?' she eventually asked. Her voice was slightly breathless. Tony wasn't sure if he should read into the fact that she hadn't covered up yet, or turned away.

'Cartoons,' he gritted out. He felt as though his shoes had been super-glued to the carpeted floor. Michelle chewed her top lip for a moment.

'You should go watch him,' she whispered. Still, Tony didn't move. Michelle suddenly felt vile. She couldn't do this with him. She couldn't let herself feel so much desire for him, or allow him to look over her body with such hunger in his eyes. The kiss last night was still lingering on her lips. What a foolish, emotional move it had been. She knew that, in the moment, she had needed to do it, but the regret of it had sat with her all day. She hated him. She detested him. She couldn't stand to have him near her like this.

'Close the door,' she said, her voice firm again. 'I don't want you in my room.'

Ten minutes later she entered the kitchen. Mason was sitting on the counter top, watching Tony stir soup in a pot on the stove, his feet swinging against the cabinets below him. The baseball bat was still in his hands.

'– and then Mrs Marlow told us all to stand along the stage and say our lines out...but I forgot mine,' he was saying, looking forlorn, 'It was the worst. I thought for ages but...I don't know... I just couldn't remember what I was meant to say.'

'Pfft,' Tony said, looking down at him. 'That's what rehearsals are for. You're meant to make mistakes in rehearsals.'

'But...no, I don't think so...' Mason deliberated. 'Everyone laughed at me. Why would they if I was meant to make a mistake?'

Tony tossed some finely chopped coriander into the pot.

'Because you're funny,' he said generously. 'You do things that make people laugh and people really like that. People always want to be friends with funny people.'

'I guess so,' Mason said, looking appreciatively at Tony, his face glowing at the compliment.

'And anyway,' Tony continued, 'you made your mistake during rehearsal when it doesn't matter. They're going to make their mistakes on the night in front of everyone. Maybe you can have a quiet laugh at them then, to make it even.'

Michelle cleared her throat. She wasn't certain Tony's logic was the right thing to be instilling in Mason. Tony glanced at her briefly, noting her disapproval but choosing not to retract his advice.

'Okay,' Mason said, looking consoled. He watched Tony's every move from his place on the counter, his eyes gleaming with admiration. 'As long I do get to laugh at them.'

'You will,' Tony said, taking him under the arms and placing him on the ground. 'You want the red bowl or the cars one?'

'The red one,' Mason said, staying close to him.

'Okay, go and have a seat.'

Mason looked as though he didn't want to leave Tony's side, but did as he asked and made toward the table. Michelle sat with him. He barely looked at her. She gazed at him, and reached out to bring order to his curls.

'You haven't hugged me today,' she informed him quietly, feeling ridiculously sad about it. Mason looked as though he hadn't realised.

'Sorry,' he said genuinely, slipping off the seat and leaning into a quick cuddle. Tony caught them in the act as he brought their food over. Michelle hadn't wanted him to see, and she quickly pressed Mason back into his chair.

Tony set both the bowls on the table and went to get his own, looking pensive.

Mason rocked slightly in his chair.

'Can't I start yet?' he asked, checking that Michelle was seated and looking impatiently at Tony for his permission.

No one said anything for a moment. Tony was watching Michelle closely over the table and she, in turn, was busying herself with a napkin, hoping her gloom at being forgotten by her son wasn't too evident.

'Kay, well I'm starting,' Mason decided, dipping his spoon into his soup.

'NO!' Tony suddenly bellowed at him, his voice shocking and scary. Mason jumped, and his spoon clattered to the floor, soup spilling everywhere. Michelle froze at his truly alarming tone. 'WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU?'

Mason looked paralysed in his chair, staring, open mouthed and wide eyed at Tony. He actually seemed to be trembling. He'd never been screamed at before in his life, let alone screamed at by someone as intimidating at Tony.

'You will not start until your mother starts,' Tony snarled at him. Mason seemed petrified, his eyes filling with tears, his mouth gasping for air. He could not understand what was happening. Eventually, he shrunk away from his father.

'M-m-mum,' he choked. He fell out of his chair and buried himself into Michelle's arms. He clung to her, terrified. 'M-Mum,' he sobbed again. It was as though he couldn't get enough air, as though his lungs had seized up. Michelle was staring, horrified, at Tony.

'Mum, I wanna go to b-bed,' Mason bawled. 'I wanna go to b-bed now.'

Michelle held him tightly, and Tony watched on, his face inexpressive. For a moment, Michelle felt her insecurities leave her. Mason was curled up in her arms, begging for her to take him away from Tony. She felt validated, felt as though she'd won something. Tony could give him things and get his attention with games, but at the end of the day, Michelle was the person he wanted most, the person he went to for comfort, the person he felt safest with.

'Please mum,' he begged. 'Please take me to bed.'

'It's alright, Mason,' she told him. 'It's alright. I'm here. We can go now.'

'Will you stay with me?' Mason pleaded, as she carried him to her room. 'P-please stay with me.'

'I will,' she said, her fingers dancing across his back. 'It's alright. Everything is alright.'

It took a considerable amount of time to calm Mason down after Tony's outburst. It seemed he was deeply terrified, but Michelle managed to pacify him, and by the time Mason was nodding off he seemed almost content once more. He had held her for a long time, weeping into her shoulder, his hands in her hair. Michelle cradled him tenderly, glad that he was back in her arms despite the awful reason for it. She watched him sleep for a moment before she shut his door and stormed back into the kitchen.

'What was that?' she hissed. 'What was that about?'

Tony had mopped up the spilt soup and had taken Mason's bowl away. He was washing it in the sink.

'He has to learn,' he said offhandedly.

Michelle felt as though she was missing something. One moment, Tony had been reassuring Mason, the next he had screamed at him. She couldn't understand what was wrong with him.

'Not by yelling in his face,' she said angrily. 'Not by scarring him! He's not going to trust you now, is he? You've effectively just cancelled out whatever progress you've made with him.'

Tony shrugged.

'I got through to him, at least,' he said calmly.

Michelle collapsed back into her chair where her portion of soup was waiting for her. Just for something to do she took a sip from her spoon. Tony sat opposite and began eating.

After a few mouthfuls, Michelle looked at him thoughtfully. She'd been trying to understand the reason for his loss of temper at his son when something occurred to her. Everything had been fine before he'd seen her demand a hug from Mason. She'd been feeling so redundant in that moment, and she had a feeling Tony had realised that. Had he terrified their son and ruined the bond he'd been building with him just to drive him back to Michelle? Just to reaffirm her status in his life? Had he done it just to repair her hurt feelings, to make her feel important once more?

Michelle worked her way slowly through her soup. It seemed more and more likely that Tony had done it for exactly the reason she suspected, and she felt both grateful to him and sad for him. Grateful because he had tried to do it as surreptitiously as possible, so that Michelle wouldn't realise he'd manufactured the whole event, and sad because he'd come so far with Mason, and he'd just blown it all to make her feel better.

'What was the appointment for?'

Michelle brought herself out of her daze and looked at him. For the first time she realised they were sitting at the table alone, eating dinner together, and it made her feel uneasy.

'Appointment?'

'The doctor's appointment you had today,' Tony reminded her. 'What was it for?'

'Oh,' Michelle murmured. 'Nothing. Just a check up.'

Tony looked at her knowingly, waiting for the real reason. Michelle knew he wouldn't let up.

'It's nothing really,' she forewarned. 'I just have to have some things checked every few months.'

'Some things?'

'Yes. Er...my heart, for one.'

Tony's expression grew incredulous. 'What?' he asked immediately. 'What's wrong with your heart?'

'Well, nothing,' Michelle said. 'Not yet, at least.'

Tony hadn't changed his incredulous look. Michelle sighed.

'Between the bomb and the torture – though mostly just the torture – my heart was put under a lot of strain,' she told him. 'It experienced a lot of trauma. Apparently it's not as strong as it was, and the tests are just to check that it continues to function as normal. Just to see that there aren't any problems that need immediate attention.'

Tony was now looking at her with a very strange expression, one she couldn't read.

'So...so what's gonna happen?' he asked cautiously, as though he didn't want to know the answer.

'Nothing,' Michelle said honestly. 'It's not so much now that the doctors are concerned about. It's when I'm an old woman that it'll probably give me problems. They're just keeping an eye on it. I can still exercise, still go jogging. They encourage it, in fact, though I hardly ever get the time. It's not a big problem and the appointments are more just a preventative measure for the problems that can come up years down the track. Like I said, nothing is wrong. It's just something I need to be mindful of.'

Tony nodded, feeling at ease and anxious at the same time. Michelle had a heart condition? All things considered, a slightly weaker heart wasn't the worst thing she could have come away with, especially if it wasn't due to cause her problems for several decades. Still, it scared the shit out of him.

'You yelled at him for me, didn't you?' she said after another mouthful. 'To scare him back to me.'

Tony stared at his bowl for a few seconds. He'd long since finished his soup.

'I'd better go,' he said eventually, getting to his feet. 'See you tomorrow.'

_Like it? Hate it? Opium is amazing, but you don't have to xx_


	11. Chapter 11

Mason wouldn't eat dinner at the table with Tony the next night. He wouldn't even eat the casserole he'd made, and it was Michelle who had to microwave some packet macaroni and cheese and watch him eat it in his room. Tony stayed out in the kitchen, and did not even attempt to fix things with his son, who didn't seem able to be in the same room as him.

'You know Mason,' Michelle said, sitting on his floor across from him and watching him slowly eat the macaroni, piece by piece. 'Tony didn't want to yell last night. He didn't want to make you sad.'

Mason placed another modest forkful of his dinner in his mouth and chewed. Each bite took minutes to get through. Michelle felt worried for him. Mason loved his food. He usually tore through his dinner, usually finished his plate in record time. Right now, he was so upset, so scared of Tony, that even eating one of his favourite things in the safety of his room was proving difficult for him.

'He just forgot that you didn't like yelling, that's all,' she said gently. 'I guess he just really wants you to remember to wait for us at dinner.'

Mason nodded, his eyes fixed on his plate. He seemed quite traumatised, and had said very little during the day. Michelle felt half angry at herself, half angry at Tony. He hadn't confirmed or denied it, but Michelle knew he'd scared Mason for her benefit. She was annoyed at him for doing it in a way that had deeply terrified Mason, but she did appreciate the gesture, even if she didn't consciously want to. His outburst was now making things difficult for them, and Tony, though he tried to hide it from her, was profoundly saddened by his son's newfound fear.

'Why don't we go back to the kitchen and eat with Tony?' she suggested. 'Hmm? He's not mad anymore. In fact, he just wants you to like him again.'

'No mummy,' Mason said quietly, his breaths quickening. 'I want to stay here. Please.'

'Come on,' Michelle coaxed him. 'We'll have a little bit of ice cream afterwards? How about that?'

She wanted to take him under the arms and lift him toward the door, but the moment she tried to he burst into loud, desperate tears.

'No mum!' he gasped, actually trying to fight against her. His little fists pummelled her shoulders. 'Please no! I want to stay here! Please!'

She sighed and held him tightly. He calmed down quite quickly, and the moment he was able to he asked to be put straight into bed. He didn't want to finish the macaroni and cheese, he didn't want to watch a cartoon, he didn't even want to show her what he'd done at school that day. He just wanted to be under his covers, with the light off and the door closed.

Michelle did as he wanted and kissed him. He seemed tired out from his paralytic fear, and was snoring softly by the time she left his room. She re-entered the kitchen where Tony was sitting at the table, his eyes dark. Michelle sat down, her plate waiting for her, and watched him. He hadn't eaten without her, and only now took up his cutlery.

She inherently knew he'd heard the exchange between herself and Mason in the bedroom. She knew he'd heard the terror in Mason's voice when she'd tried to bring them back together and she felt sorry for him. She knew she shouldn't. She knew he deserved whatever punishment came his way, even if it was his own doing.

'He's scares easily,' she told him. Tony just nodded. He didn't want Michelle to know he was upset. He had, after all, done it only to repair her damaged self-esteem.

'He'll get over it,' he agreed.

Michelle reached for her fork and took a bite of the casserole.

'Mmm. Tastes different,' she mused out loud without meaning to. She felt horrendously self conscious when she realised what she'd done. She had referred to all the times Tony had made casserole for her during their marriages. She'd brought the happier times of their life together to the surface. Tony nodded.

'Different recipe,' he said.

'Oh?'

'Yeah. This one...ah...this one's better. Healthier.'

Michelle chewed slowly.

'Healthier?' she queried. It was Tony's turn to look slightly self-conscious.

'Heart healthy,' he explained. 'Low cholesterol and ah... no salt. Lean meat. That sort of thing.'

Michelle swallowed.

'I see,' she said. Then she sighed. 'I shouldn't have told you about the heart thing. It's not a big deal. You didn't need to know.'

'The hell I didn't,' he growled. 'You should have told me weeks ago.'

'Why?' Michelle asked. 'What for? We're not together anymore. My health is no concern of yours.'

He glowered at her.

'It is my concern. A massive concern. And even if it weren't, I'd still be troubled. I want my son to have his mother around for a long time to come. I don't want him to have to lose her before he's good and ready to.'

Michelle continued on with her dinner, taking small bites, pretending Tony wasn't there.

'I picked these up,' he said after a long pause, pulling a little bottle off the counter behind him. 'They're vitamins. Some sort of special cardiovascular ones. Take them. And antioxidants are apparently pretty important for your sort of thing so I got these too.'

He jerked his head toward a box of special herbal tea on the counter, and a few packets of heart healthy dark chocolate.

'And this,' he said, his tone softening. He placed a bottle of red wine on the table, a very expensive red wine. It had once been Michelle's favourite, and though it wasn't something she had treated herself to often, it had become Tony's tradition during their marriages to buy her a bottle on her birthday or for their anniversaries. Michelle hadn't had a glass of it in six years.

'I never knew this but it's got an insanely high level of antioxidants or whatever it is you need,' he explained, pushing it toward her slightly.

She stared him, exasperated.

'What are you trying to do?' she asked. 'Trying to break down my defences with chocolates? With an active interest in preserving my health? By sharing that wine with me, hoping to get me tipsy, or drunk even, so that I'll warm to you? To forgive you? What, exactly?'

Tony tapped his foot on the floor beneath the table for a moment.

'I don't drink,' he said simply, 'and the wine is a gift for you. Drink it alone, drink it with company, I don't care. It's a gift. I have no ulterior motive.'

Michelle had, in all her rage, forgotten Tony's history of alcoholism. She chose to focus on that instead of focusing on resisting the urge to feel touched.

'The chocolate is meant to be good for you, so eat it. The pills will help you, so take them. And don't cast them aside or throw them out when I leave. I'm serious about this. Even if I have to force you to ingest them, I will. Your health is becoming the priority in this house now. All meals will be modified so that you're getting everything you need and nothing you don't. And you have a standing appointment at the doctors every fortnight. I've had it arranged.'

'Well, that's all very gallant of you,' Michelle said snippily, 'but believe it or not I've got my condition under control.'

'Clearly you don't,' Tony said, the volume of his voice increasing. 'When I was watching Mason yesterday you jumped at the opportunity to rush off to the doctors. Obviously you haven't got it under control, or you would have fixed appointments and arrangements in place for Mason. You would be eating better food, you would be relaxing, not working full time and spending every other waking moment tending to our son.'

Michelle couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

'Am I being chastised for being a good mother?' she spluttered. 'Are you berating me for sustaining a lifestyle in which _your_ child is the priority? For working to support him?'

'You _are_ a good mother,' Tony agreed quietly after a few moments of silence. He watched Michelle, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her fury. He dropped his gaze and focused on the table. 'You're an incredible mother.'

The air between them seemed to hum. The wind outside rattled at the windows and the black and white clock above the fridge ticked on.

'You know,' Tony said, still staring at the table, 'I'd always felt I'd done something extraordinary in order to get you. I'd always thought perhaps I didn't deserve you. How could I? Not even the first time you kissed me, after I'd threatened you and alienated you and forced you to break protocol, could I understand why you were still interested in me. I wondered if it was just some soft insecurity I had. Some left over sense of worthlessness from somewhere in my past. Maybe I was just dazzled by you or some stupid thing. But now, seeing you devote all your energy, all your time, all your love and care to our son, I know for certain I don't deserve you. I've always suspected it but now...but now I know for sure.'

Michelle eyes were almost boring holes into her side of the table, just as Tony's were on his side.

'You haven't touched the money I deposited,' he said after clearing his voice. He wasn't sure how long they'd both been quiet for.

'No,' Michelle confirmed. 'I've had it put aside. You'll need it when you move on.'

She hadn't realised the weight of her words until they'd left her lips. Tony stared straight at her.

'Move on?' he asked, his voice barely audible. 'Where exactly do you think I'm going to go?'

She shrugged slightly. 'We both know this can't go on.'

Tony sat tall in his chair, watching her incredulously

'What are you talking about?'

'I don't want you here,' she said sadly. 'You know I don't, but the longer you stay...' she trailed off. 'Mason is starting to like you. In a big way. Last night scared him, but it only scared him because he thinks you're wonderful. He's never had a man around him before, he's never had a role model, or someone to be firm with him, or teach him the sorts of things that will stay with him for life.'

Tony looked oddly discomfited.

'He doesn't like me that much,' he said. 'It's just because of the things I get him.'

Michelle wished that was true. She honestly did.

'No,' she said. 'I know him. I can tell the difference. And it scares the hell out of me because one day he's going to demand more. He's going to ask questions about you, he's going to want you around all the time, not just at dinner, and he's going to want to understand your relationship to me. And one day, years from now, he's going to look in the mirror and realise he's your son and then everything's going to go horribly wrong.'

'Wrong?'

'Yes, wrong. He's going to want answers, he's going to want some history. He's going to ask us about who we really are, where we were born, what we've done and...and how we met. He's going to realise he doesn't have grandparents or cousins and he's going to wonder about that too. He's going to ask why we're both covered in scars; why you limp and why my heart is weak and we're not going to be able to lie to him.'

'So we'll tell him the truth,' Tony said.

'Imagine being the child of Tony Almeida and Michelle Dessler,' she said. 'Imagine that. The internet is rife with articles detailing your arrest for treason. They slander your name, they mention me as the woman you put above an entire nation of people, they put you in the same sentence as Stephen Saunders. He's going to find reports of a car bomb that have our names listed as casualties. He's going to see my death certificate and compare it to my forged Canadian passport and ID cards – all the evidence of my life as an illegal alien. He's going to find records of your trial for all the terrible things you did in Washington and he's going to look at his parents and see two people he can't be proud of. Two people he doesn't really know.'

'He'll be proud of you,' Tony said fiercely. 'He better be.'

Michelle rolled her eyes.

'It's true that I haven't done anything especially bad,' she said, 'but I'm still here illegally, still living in secret and in fear. I mean...he doesn't even know my real name. He thinks its Camille, for christ's sake.'

She stopped to take a fortifying breath.

'And then there's us,' she almost whispered. 'I can't stand to be around you, can't ever forgive or forget, and that's going to poison his home, and slowly destroy our lives. We can't be happy just sharing a meal with each other at night. I know us. We have to have all or nothing. There's no middle ground, no happy medium. It's all or nothing...and I can't give you "all". I can't love you, I can't reward you, I can't invite you back into my life. It can't be all so it's got to be nothing. It just has to be.'

'It doesn't,' Tony snarled. 'It can be all. We can have all again.'

Michelle shook her head. She got up suddenly and took his plate and her own. She deposited them in the sink and stood staring out the window, her back to him.

'So that money is for when you move on,' she said, praying that her voice sounded robust and sure. 'I won't put an expiry date on your time with him. I won't tell you when you have to leave, or make you feel like an intruder. But you _will_ have to leave. There's no way around it.'

Tony had left his seat and had come up behind her. He knew she could see his reflection in the window pane, but it didn't deter him and it didn't frighten her. Gradually, he extended his arm and wrapped it around her waist. She stiffened slightly beneath his touch. Soon, both arms were around her, clutching at her abdomen, holding her tight. He drew her back toward him, drew her in close, and rested his head in the crook of her neck. He took a long, slow, deep breath in, inhaling the scent of her hair and skin, and closed his eyes sadly, savouring the feel of her against him. She realised she wanted to cover his arms with her own, wanted to nestle her head upon his, wanted to reach behind her and run her fingers through his hair. She didn't though. They stood together for such a long time, not moving, hardly even breathing.

'I haven't even held him,' Tony admitted, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in her curls. Michelle closed her eyes, feeling tragic and displaced. She pulled away from him then and vanished up the corridor.

Tony watched her go, feeling helpless. He ran his hand over his face and left the kitchen. He dropped onto the couch, unable to think what he could do or say to her when he realised she had reappeared by his side. Clutched against her was Mason, fast asleep, his head lolling from side to side.

'Here,' she said, leaning his son toward him. 'Here.'

'Michelle, he'll wake up –'

'He won't,' she told him. 'He's the deepest sleeper imaginable. It's scary, really. He won't wake.'

Slowly, Tony took him in his arms. Michelle sat down next to them and curled up, pain slinking through her. Tony looked, at his core, lost for words. He held his son to his chest, rubbed his back gently, rocked almost imperceptibly against the upholstery of the couch.

'He's beautiful, Michelle,' he uttered after minutes had gone by, his voice broken. He pressed his face into the top of Mason's head. 'He's so beautiful.'

Michelle nodded. Later, she got to her feet and Tony followed her. She showed him Mason's room, and Tony got to put his son to bed for the first time. He tucked the blankets around him, smoothed his hair back and kissed his face. He joined Michelle at the door and looked intently at her.

'See you tomorrow?' he breathed.

She nodded.

'Tomorrow.'

_Reviews are opium and encourage swift updates x_


	12. Chapter 12

_Will you be at the apartment Friday night?_

_Where else would I be?_

_I was wondering if you would do me a favour._

_Of course._

_Will you watch Mason for me and put him to bed?_

_Yes, but where will you be?_

_I have a drinks thing. I haven't gone to any of the ones in the past, so I thought if you were going to be there for him I could maybe put in an appearance._

_This is a work gathering, I take it. _

_Yes._

_Just your department or the whole Toronto office?_

_I don't see how it matters, but the whole office._

It was nearly fifteen minutes before Tony's reply message registered on her phone.

_Then no. _

_What? Why not?_

_We'll discuss it tonight._

Michelle came home to find dinner in the oven, Mason on the couch, and Tony beside him reading from an array of picture books. It had been over a week since Tony had yelled at Mason, and things were almost back on track with them. Of course, the fact that Michelle had allowed Tony to buy him another Gameyboy game and a bucket of toy soldiers had contributed somewhat to their progress, but so long as Mason ate dinner with them, so long as he didn't run away from his father, Michelle felt it was justified.

Things at work had been hectic, her client list was expanding, and the fact that Tony volunteered to get Mason from school each day meant she didn't have to rush through her work to be out of there by three. She could focus on each assignment, do her job as well as she knew she could. There was something satisfying about it.

'Hi mum,' Mason said when the door opened. Michelle didn't noticed Tony poke him in the ribs to make him get off the couch and hug her.

'Hello,' she said, squeezing him against her. 'Look at you, your hair is all messed up. Have you been wearing your Blue Jays hat?'

'Yep,' Mason said, pressing his face into her stomach. He held onto her for a while. It seemed Tony was overshadowing her at the moment where Mason was concerned, but only until he was back in her arms, where he realised he felt best. 'We're having casey-dillers for dinner.'

'Quesadillas?'

'Uh...I don't know,' Mason truthfully, and retreated to the couch. 'Is Garfield on yet?' he asked Tony. Tony looked at his watch.

'Yeah, should be starting now. You wanna watch?'

'Yeah.' Mason said.

'Yeah what?'

'Yeah...please?

'Okay.'

Tony set the show up for Mason, where he immediately propped himself against the coffee table to watch, and then followed Michelle into the kitchen. She had dumped her handbag and shoes by the corridor, and was setting the table for dinner. Tony watched her for a moment. He enjoyed the way she flitted around the kitchen in her stockinged feet, her curls pinned back at her ears, her suit slightly wrinkled from a long day. She opened one of the higher cabinets and went up on her toes to try to reach for a ramekin for the tomato and paprika garnish Tony had made. Watching her, with her slender arms and legs extended like that, caused Tony to exercise significant self-control.

'Here,' he said gruffly, placing his hand against her waist to push her out of the way. 'Let me.'

He reached up and grabbed the offending ramekin easily. He shoved it into her hands.

'Thanks,' Michelle said, and turned away. Tony continued to watch her.

'You mad at me?'

'Whatever gave you that idea?'

'No, I mean...just today. Are you angrier than usual today?'

'I don't quite understand why you didn't agree to Friday night, but no, it hasn't increased my detestation of you all that much.'

Tony lounged against the counter, watching her movements once more. He felt seriously aroused, which was odd seeing that no part of her other than her face was bared to him at the moment. It was something about the way she was moving, the way she refused to acknowledge him, the way her feet travelled with such grace over the tiles. It also had something to do with the aggravating jealousy he was feeling. Jealousy he did not want to explain to the woman who hated him.

'If it was just your department, that'd be fine,' he said.

'Yes, I gathered that from your message. Feel like explaining your logic?'

'Not particularly,' he growled.

She yanked some knives from the cutlery drawer and pushed it closed with an annoyed thud.

'Well you have to,' she said. 'You don't make demands on me, you don't give me conditions or criteria. I'm allowed to do that to you, but you aren't allowed to do it to me.'

'Makes perfect sense,' Tony muttered sarcastically.

'Doesn't it? I'm the one allowing you into my home every night. I'm the one giving you what you want with Mason. So who are you to put limitations on me?'

Tony scratched his cheek.

'That little oily haired event consultant likes you,' he said, his voice so low Michelle almost couldn't discern the words. 'I'd prefer for you not to be out, at night, in a celebratory environment with him. Alright?'

Michelle blinked.

'Are you talking about John Hawley?'

Tony said nothing. They just glared at each other.

'Firstly,' Michelle said, 'John isn't little. He's over six feet tall. Secondly, his hair isn't oily in the slightest. Thirdly, he's just a nice colleague, and fourthly, no, he doesn't like me.'

'Really? He doesn't like you? So then why does he come down to your office for nearly no reason every afternoon? Why does he hang around your desk with his coffee?'

'We have a quick chat when he delivers his reports to our senior manager at two o'clock and – hold on,' she said. 'How are you doing this? How do you know what goes on in my office? Have you set up shop in the building across the street? Do you watch me from an opposite window with a pair of binoculars or something?'

'I only wanted to see what your job was like,' he told her, which had been true until he'd noticed this Hawley shithead. Then it had become a small obsession. 'And you're not going to this work party.'

'I've missed every other one. I need to go.'

'Does this Hawley dipshit know you have a son and a husband?'

'He knows I have a son,' Michelle said, 'because it's true. As for the husband...' she glanced at her left hand. There was no ring there. There was no ring on Tony's either, but it was only because he'd kept it off whilst in Washington for his cover and it hadn't been returned to him during his trial. Thinking about it, he didn't even know what had happened to it. He wondered if Michelle knew what had happened to hers.

'We're not married anymore,' Michelle explained. 'Dying kind of puts an end to that sort of thing. Camille Wright is single.'

'Are you trying to enrage me?' Tony asked her seriously. 'Are you doing this on purpose?'

Michelle cast him a quick look over her shoulder. He thought he must've been seeing things when he realised the look wasn't entirely irate. In fact, it was almost good natured. She shrugged.

'It's the truth. Camille Wright is a free woman. Not that John Hawley is interested. I think your concerns are unfounded.'

'You aren't going to that party,' Tony said in a warning tone.

'I am,' she countered. 'And you'll be here to care for Mason. Don't let me down.'

Friday night came around far too quickly for Tony's liking, and to his surprise, he found himself at the apartment, playing with Mason, watching rubbish kids movies and trying to decided what sort of takeaway dinner to have delivered.

Meanwhile, Michelle was flicking through her wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. Finally, she settled on a modest black cocktail dress. It was pretty enough for a night out, but reserved enough for the company of her bosses and co-workers. She was in the small en suite attached to her bedroom when she heard Mason wonder up the corridor and into her room.

'In here, sweetheart,' she called to him, when he didn't find her straight away. He came in and perched on the edge of the bath. He didn't often come into her en suite, his baths took place in the other bathroom down the hall. He watched her apply a final coating of lipstick, and a touch of mascara.

'Where are you going?' he asked, taking in her dress and high heels.

'Just out for a little while,' she said. 'People from work will be there, so I have to go.'

He nodded and played with the corner of a towel beside him. 'Are you gonna be a long time?'

Michelle looked at him in the reflection of her mirror.

'Why? Don't you want to stay with Tony?' she asked.

He shrugged.

'I like it when it's both of you,' he explained, as though he'd only just realised he felt that way.

'Well,' Michelle said, crouching to him, 'I won't be long. And we'll all be together again tomorrow night.'

He nodded. He didn't seem upset, merely thoughtful.

'And I think takeaway is on the menu for dinner,' she said. He grinned.

'I know,' he told her. 'We can't decide what to get.'

'You'd better go back and help Tony then,' she said. He nodded and scarpered away. Michelle followed him a moment later, and stopped in the corridor when she heard Tony address him.

'Where'd you go?' he asked Mason. Mason jumped back on the couch beside him.

'Talked to mummy,' he said.

'Oh yeah? That's she doing?'

Mason shrugged.

'Putting stuff on her face.'

'Like makeup?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh,' Tony said.

'Why does she do that?' Mason asked after a moment.

'What? The makeup?'

'Yeah.'

'It's something ladies do. I've never really known.'

'Huh?'

'I've been watching her do that for years,' Tony said, one eye on the television. 'Takes ages to do and just comes off eventually. It's strange.'

Mason was quiet for a long moment.

'Years?' he asked finally.

Tony looked at him sideways.

'Uh...yeah,' he admitted.

Mason chewed his lip.

'You know, I'm five,' he explained. It seemed this was the only thing he understood about the concept of years, and so bringing it up seemed like a clever idea.

'What?' Tony joked. 'I had you pegged at twenty-eight at least.'

Mason smiled, and then bit his fingernails for a few seconds.

'How long have you known mum?' he asked. He didn't seem suspicious, Michelle realised gratefully, just curious.

'Your mother and I have been friends for ages,' Tony said. 'A very long time. Even before you were born.'

'Really?' Mason asked, looking astonished.

'Yeah,' Tony said, noticing his son's rapt attention. 'You ah...you wanna see something?'

'What?'

Tony dug his wallet out from his pocket, opened it and took a wad of photos from where another person would have had a wad of cash. He handed Mason the first one.

'Be careful,' Tony instructed worriedly, watching his son's hand clutch the picture. 'It's old and pretty beaten up already.'

Michelle strained to see what it was, and felt her cheeks flush. It was a photo from very early on in their dating. She was sitting at a park bench in a floaty pink dress, a stupid, cheesy grin on her face. Tony had been sitting across from her, he had taken the photo. It had happened a decade ago, and she looked infinitely different, infinitely younger.

'Whoa,' Mason said, as though he'd never seen anything so confusing in his life.

'Yeah,' Tony agreed.

'She looks weird,' Mason declared. Tony barked out a laugh.

'Not the word I would have chosen, but alright,' he said. 'She's younger here, that's why she looks different.'

'Pretty,' Mason decided after a while.

Tony nodded.

'Her hair's longer,' he observed.

'Yeah,' Tony said. 'She always had really long hair. It's a bit shorter now, isn't it?'

Mason nodded. He took the next photo from Tony, who tried, only for a second, to keep it from him. Michelle wished he had. It was a picture of her and Tony together, taken at the wedding of one of Tony's cousins. They'd only been together a few months, and that night had been the nerve-racking evening she'd been introduced to his family for the first time. She could still remember putting the elegant indigo dress on in the bathroom before they'd left the house. She remembered feeling Tony's hands on her back as he'd zipped the garment up behind her, and how she expressed her fears to him. He had kissed her ardently, had messed up her makeup, and had told her to "Forget it. They'll love you."

Mason frowned at the photo. Even a five year old could not miss the highly present level of intimacy in the photograph. Michelle wasn't even smiling when it had happened. Tony had wrapped his arms around her waist, had pulled her against him by surprise late in the evening, and had ordered some nearby member of his family to take a photo. Michelle, who had then been as much in lust with him as she was in love, looked at him instead of the camera, her face passionate, her eyes heavy and warm with desire.

Mason blinked at it. Tony was giving a lazy half smile in his tux, a much younger Michelle looked as though she couldn't get close enough to him, and the whole spectacularly amorous scene washed over their son.

'I'll just be taking that,' Tony said, slipping it from his fingers and tucking his wallet away. They were silent for a while.

'Are you leaving soon?' Mason asked unexpectedly. Tony looked at him.

'No, I'm sticking around for the night. Why?'

Mason fidgeted.

'I want to have dinner with mum,' he said, folding his little arms. 'You can go home.'

'Mum has to go out,' Tony said as he watched him, confused.

'Maybe she'll stay,' Mason murmured, almost to himself. 'And then you can leave. I...I don't really want to play with you anymore.'

He hopped off the couch and ran into Michelle in the corridor.

'Mum,' he said, and wrapped his arms around her. His grip seemed tighter than usual. 'Are you leaving now?'

'I have to, darling,' she said firmly, combating the situation before it got out of hand. 'It's for work. Remember to order something delicious for dinner.'

She knew something was bothering him, but she also knew his father would take excellent care of him and would strive to make him happy once more. She hugged him and tried to move for the door. Mason was hot on her heels. He seemed not to know whether to make a fuss or not. Tony got to his feet when he saw Michelle. She looked alarmingly beautiful, alluring and sophisticated, just as he knew she should. The fact that he'd been expecting it did nothing to help him through it.

'Enjoy yourself,' he said hoarsely, his face dark. He was still feeling the pinch of the John Hawley situation.

Michelle met his eyes for a second.

'I'll try,' she said. Mason was standing between them, his face a mash up of emotion. He gave Tony an unconsciously annoyed look and turned back to Michelle. He grabbed her dress, demanding her attention.

'Love you, mum,' he said quietly, as though he was telling her an important secret, a secret he thought Tony had no business hearing. Michelle held him close.

'Love you more,' she said, and disappeared through the door.

_Reviews, opium, updates. _


	13. Chapter 13

Tony didn't know what time it was. Somewhere close to two in the morning. He was reclined on the couch, watching a news program through tired eyes. It was mostly dark in the apartment. The only light was coming from the one in the corridor outside Mason's room, which he had instructed to be left on, and the one above the TV.

Just as he was stifling a yawn, Tony heard an odd rustling from outside the door. He turned and saw a shadow moving in the space between it and carpet, and glanced over at the clock. He'd been right, it was just after two. Tony couldn't help feeling annoyed. Michelle had obviously had a half decent time if she'd stayed out this late.

When the door failed to unlock, Tony left the couch. The rustling was still going on outside and when he opened it he found Michelle standing there with her hand deep in her bag, looking surprised.

'Oh,' she said. 'You're awake.'

He nodded.

'Yeah. Couldn't find your keys?'

She abandoned the search through the handbag.

'They're in there somewhere,' she muttered.

She looked back up at him. He looked at her. She chewed her lip. Nothing happened for a moment.

'Uh...coming inside?' he asked.

She nodded, though it took a few moments, and stepped past him, her back very straight, her movements purposeful. She made her way through the semi darkness to the kitchen, where she set her handbag down very slowly, and went to get a glass of water. Tony followed her.

'Where's Mason?' she asked, glancing around.

'In bed,' Tony said obviously. 'He's been asleep for hours.'

'Oh,' Michelle said. 'Of course.'

'Had a good night?' he asked, his arms crossed.

She nodded, but didn't face him.

'Yes, very good,' she said formally. She took a sip of water. Tony watched her set it down. He narrowed his eyes.

'You were out late,' he said.

'Yes,' she said. 'Pretty late.'

'Where was the party?' he asked.

She avoided his gaze, and brought her hand up, gradually, to brush a curl away from her eyes.

'A bar,' she explained. 'Was a corporate looking place.'

'Was it nice?'

'Very nice, thank you.'

Tony suddenly realised something.

'Are you drunk?' he asked.

The water returned to its place on the counter with a slightly louder clunk than before.

'No,' she said, her head giving a slight shake. Another curl sprang loose.

Tony tilted his head to the side.

'You are, aren't you?' he said. He had to admit, it hadn't been obvious at first. She'd clearly had a very serious, albeit drunken, discussion with herself in the taxi on the way home about hiding it from him at all costs should he be awake to see it.

'How many drinks have you had?' he asked gently.

She frowned at the floor.

'Two,' she said. 'For appearances sake. And then water. Lots of it.'

'Liar,' Tony muttered. 'Was Lindsay there? And Georgia?'

She lifted her slightly glazed eyes and peered at him. So he knew the names of her work friends too, did he? She'd never spent time with them outside the office, but her two colleagues were lovely and fun and she had lunch with them nearly every day.

'Yes,' she said. 'They were there. So?'

Tony fought off a smile.

'Let me guess,' he said. 'You and your friends were professional and sociable until your bosses left at eleven, eleven thirty. Then your friends, who were having fun even if you weren't, decided another few drinks wouldn't hurt, and somewhere between that point and this one you'd lost track of things, starting having a good time and became quite inebriated.'

She looked at him sheepishly and nodded. He knew, ordinarily, she wouldn't have confirmed his suspicions so easily. Then again, she was drunk.

'So how many drinks?' he asked.

She gave a fairly theatrical shrug.

'Not sure,' she said. 'And – and you're not allowed to try anything! Just because I'm like this doesn't mean you can try anything. I'll remember tomorrow.'

Tony smiled. She'd obviously told herself to say that if he managed to notice her state. It seemed important to her to get it out.

'You won't,' he said. 'But don't worry. I won't do anything.' He considered her thoughtfully. She'd always been quite a light weight when it came to alcohol. A shared bottle of wine, two or three glasses, usually put her in a delightfully uninhibited state. Anything more and she was known to say things she generally wouldn't ever say sober. Not unkind things. On contrary, they were generally sweet and embarrassing. At five or six drinks her motor control wasn't great and she required help with things and began slurring her speech. Anything and everything could come out of her mouth at that stage. He'd not seen her like that often. Occasionally when they'd been dating, when things at work had been hard or if she'd been at a wedding or party with her old friends and they'd been having a great, unrestrained time.

Tony then considered that she'd not really had much of a drink in six years, no reasons to celebrate and no one to share wine with, and so her tolerance was at an all time low. He inched closer to her.

'So how many?' he asked.

Her eyes returned to him. They'd wandered off.

'Eight or seven,' she said, a hiccup with exceptional comedic timing popping from her lips.

'Shit,' Tony said. Clearly she was much drunker than she was letting on. 'So, you _were_ having a great time, I'm guessing.'

She nodded.

'So much fun,' she said, looking stunned, as though she hadn't thought she would ever have "so much fun" again in her life. 'All the good people were there.'

Tony nodded. He took her glass from her, which she seemed not to notice, refilled it and pressed it back into her hand.

'Drink this down,' he instructed. She did exactly as he asked.

'John was there,' she said after a minute. Tony looked up from refilling her third glass, examining her through the darkness. 'John Hawley,' she said, just in case Tony had forgotten who John was.

Tony handed her the water and rested against the sink, his hip jutting into the counter.

'Uh-huh,' he said, feeling both angry and affectionate toward her for what she was about to drunkenly put him through.

'He bought me a drink,' she whispered. 'And said I looked nice. And you can't do anything. You can't go off and kill him like you kill everyone else.'

'I can't?'

'No,' she explained. 'I won't let you. You aren't allowed to kill John because I like him...'

Tony wanted to grab her and shake her. He knew she was doing this on purpose, that the alcohol was egging her on. He knew she was just trying to get at him because she was drunk and unable to think as herself. Tony knew he deserved a lot of things, but Michelle knew where to draw the line. She knew he didn't deserve this kind of anguish. Drunk Michelle, however, was a different story.

'And what did you say to John?' Tony asked. He knew it was going to hurt something terrible, but he needed to know the nature of their relationship. He needed to know if Michelle felt anything for this Hawley person. She shrugged.

'Lots of things,' she said evasively. She moved past Tony and headed for the corridor. She strayed off course about half way there. Tony wasn't far behind, and steered her back in the right direction.

'I want to sleep now,' she said.

'Yeah,' Tony said. 'We'll go to bed.'

'Not we!' she whispered harshly. '_We _won't go to bed. You're not allowed in bed.'

'No,' he amended. 'I didn't mean me too. Just that I'd take you there. I won't stay.'

'Good,' she muttered.

Tony took her arm firmly and helped her up the corridor. The soft light outside Mason's room dazzled her slightly, and she was glad to enter the looming darkness of her room. She stumbled slightly and eased herself onto the made bed, still fully dressed.

Tony stood at the door, feeling as though he was watching something he shouldn't be. He looked around. Her room was quaint and comfortable, her things neat and there was a lone photo of Mason on a chest of drawers.

'Michelle,' Tony said. She stirred slightly. 'You can't sleep like that.'

She looked at him groggily.

'S'fine,' she told him 'Go home.'

'You still have your shoes on.'

She tried to kick them off before realising her feet were strapped into them and gave up. Tony raked his hand over his head, feeling as though he was being put in a very dangerous position.

'Jesus,' he said eventually. 'Just let me.'

He sat on the edge of the bed, took her foot in his hand and fiddled with the straps till they came lose. Michelle turned over, not without effort, to prop herself up on the pillows to watch him. He took her other foot in his hand and repeated the gesture. The shoes were gone, and her heel was soft, warm and heavy in his palm. Neither of them moved. She blinked lazily, and Tony felt horrendously turned on by the sight of her lounged back in bed. Almost of its own accord, his hand began caressing her heel.

'You ...you need to take your stockings off,' he explained uncomfortably. 'You can't wear them all night.'

'S'fine.'

'Are they comfortable?'

She lay still for a moment, apparently thinking.

'Urgh, no,' she murmured. She heaved herself to sit up, and pulled the skirt of her dress up around her waist. She fumbled to find the top of the stockings, and twisted and turned to get them off. Hip to toe, her legs were exposed, and Tony nearly went into overload.

'Fuck,' he said under his breath. 'Can't you do this in the bathroom?'

Michelle almost toppled over in her attempt to free her legs, and Tony caught her by the shoulders to steady her.

''Spose not,' he said. He scratched at his face. 'You're gonna hate me in the morning for this.'

He pushed her against the pillows, bunched the dress back around her waist, and very gently peeled the stockings down her body.

'Don't look,' she said meekly, watching him with big eyes.

Tony let out a snort.

'Your legs are nothing new to me, Michelle,' he explained, his hands stilling on her thighs. He watched her chest rise in an effort to draw in a big breath.

He held her calf elevated in his hand, rolling the nylon down and pulling her toes free from it. He repeated the process with her other leg. He tossed the scrunched material aside and turned back to her. She was lying there, her legs stretched out, her black underwear exposed, a few centimetres of her stomach in view. She clumsily tried to push the dress back down.

'Don't look,' she repeated, her face flushing. Tony placed a tender hand on her knee, needing to feel her but knowing where else to touch.

'You know,' he said, as he pulled her into a sitting position, 'I have images. Thousands of images of you stored in my head. Images of you naked, you in bed, you in the shower, your face while I'm inside you. I pick through them whenever I miss you the most, like a slideshow.'

She watched him, her face startlingly close to his. He couldn't read her expression at all.

He got up and went to the chest of drawers. He pulled a big, comfy t-shirt from the top drawer and returned to the bed, where he sat behind her, propping her against him. She twisted her hands in her lap, her eyelids dropping slightly. Tony unzipped the dress, told her to raise her arms and then lifted the garment off her. She sat, so close to him, in nothing but underwear, and Tony was screaming at himself not to press his lips to the soft skin of her shoulder, or to trail his hand over her back, or wrap his arms around her bare stomach.

He knew she didn't sleep in a bra. Of course, as far as he was concerned she never slept in anything at all, but he supposed times had changed. His fingers went to the clasp midway down her back.

'Tony,' she said, her voice stricken.

'It's okay,' he said soothingly. 'Don't worry.'

He unclasped it, took it from her body, and then focused on her back, aware that she was half nude in his arms, but refusing to look at her or caress her. He instead raised her arms once more and slipped the t-shirt on. His hands then went up to her hair, where he found several pins. He unravelled her curls from them, and put them on her bedside table. He left her then, eased her back onto the pillows, and pulled the covers over her. He sat down beside her, looking down at her, wanting to take her hand but not quite able to bring himself to.

'I'm glad you had fun,' he admitted to her. It was one of the most honest things he'd ever said.

She blinked slowly.

'Even if it was with John?' she asked, her words strung together.

He leaned a little closer to her.

'No,' he said. 'That bit I'm not glad about.'

They stared at each other, Tony looking immensely aggravated, Michelle looking content.

'You're jealous,' she said.

'I am,' he confirmed.

She bit her lip before reaching out a hand and sloppily cupping his chin. Tony felt a shock of energy hit him, felt the soft skin of her palm make contact with his unshaven face, and his breaths became ragged and hot.

'John has a fiancé,' she notified him sleepily. 'He's just my friend. Like Lindsay and Georgia.'

'So then why did you –'

'You were jealous,' she explained candidly.

Her hand still hadn't left his chin, and Tony pushed against it gently, his mouth finding a resting place against her pulse. He didn't kiss it. He wanted to, but didn't.

'Your hair is too short,' she said. He looked at her, a small smile on his lips. 'And this moustache isn't good.'

He allowed himself a chuckle.

'You don't like it?'

'No,' she said. 'Makes you look scary.'

'I am scary,' he said after a quiet moment.

She nodded. 'Yes,' she said. 'But not to me.'

'I do scare you,' he said hoarsely. 'But not in the way you mean.'

She nodded. Even through her drunken state, she seemed to understand him.

'Go to sleep,' he said, and against his better judgement her held her face in his hand. 'You're beautiful.'

He got up, closed the door and went to leave the apartment. He stalled in the living room for a moment before deciding to stay and sleep there. With Michelle the way she was he felt like the apartment was unsecure, that someone could come in and do something that she might not be able to prevent. That was enough to see him sprawled across the couch for the night, uncomfortable yet unworried.

The next morning Michelle awoke feeling almost worse than she had when she'd first come out of her coma. She thanked whatever god there was that it was Saturday. She sat up, steadying herself on her bedside table, took off the t-shirt and pulled her red robe around her. She needed water. Badly.

Getting up, she saw her shoes and stockings dumped in the corner. She frowned at them. For one reason or another, she wasn't entirely convinced she'd removed them herself. She ventured down the corridor, feeling as though her brain was slush and her stomach was filled with gasoline, and entered the kitchen, which smelt quite delicious.

Tony was there, in what Michelle suspected were the clothes he had been wearing the night before, making toast and coffee. She looked over, and found a blanket strewn across the couch.

'Hey,' he said, glancing at her.

She moaned pitifully, feeling annoyed just to see him. She dropped into a chair at the table as he handed her a plate of toast.

'Thanks,' she managed. She looked at him expectantly, and he smirked before getting her a cup of coffee.

'Where's Mason?' she asked, shoving her hair from her face.

'In his room, playing his Gameboy,' Tony said. 'He didn't feel like playing it out here with me.'

'No?' Michelle asked.

'No,' Tony said, bringing his own breakfast over and sitting down opposite her. 'I think our five year old is jealous of me.'

Michelle frowned at him as she took a sip from her cup.

'What are you talking about?'

Tony shrugged.

'I was showing him some photos last night,' he said. He didn't know Michelle had been listening in. 'And he saw the one from the wedding. Remember? You're in the purple dress.'

'Indigo,' Michelle muttered, massaging her forehead. 'And yeah I remember. What about it?'

Tony chewed a piece of toast thoughtfully.

'He didn't like what he saw,' he said. 'Told me to go home. That he didn't want to play with me.'

Michelle realised that Tony did not seem upset about it, more amused than anything else. Even a little proud.

'I don't think he liked the image of you wrapped up in some man's arms,' he ventured on. 'He didn't like the look on your face, either.'

Michelle eyed him disdainfully, feeling a rush of affection for Mason.

'I guess he's possessive,' Tony mused coyly. 'Guess he's got a jealous side to him.'

'Another quality I wish he'd not inherited from you,' she quipped, 'but he doesn't need to be worried by the idea of us together. It's not something he'll ever have to face.'

She looked up a moment later and saw Tony staring at her, looking quite frightening. His eyes were tumultuous, his jaw set, his lips tight. He looked as though she'd said something he found quite unforgivable.

'What?' Michelle asked. 'You conspired to commit terrorist acts against innocent people. What am I going to do? Kiss you when I come through the door? Prize you with sex every night? You make my skin crawl. This time spent together hasn't changed that.'

Tony's teeth were clamped together. He felt like hurting her, felt like saying something grossly unfair just to damage her. She needed to get over it. She needed to accept that he'd made a mistake, that his love for her was intense and flawed and drove him to do insane things. Another more normal woman would be able to recognise that.

'I'm going,' he grunted at her. 'I'll be back to see Mason tonight.'

He slammed the door on his way out.

_Hate it? Like it? Reviews are opium, but ony if you think it's worth it._


	14. Chapter 14

'I'm scared,' Mason said. He was at the kitchen table, playing with the toy soldiers Tony had bought for him. Tony was making dinner, and Michelle was in the living room, attempting to tidy it after Mason had strewn most of the contents of a hundred piece puzzle box across it.

Mason seemed to have mostly got over his jealousy of Tony, but if he noticed them speaking, or looking at each other, he seemed to gravitate toward Michelle with a question or a request that drew her attention back to him. Michelle found it adorable, Tony found it endearing, and they both seemed more than ever to want to please him as much as they could without spoiling him.

'No need to be scared,' Tony said. He was making some sort of chicken dish with rice and went to grind some pepper over the skillet.

'Yeah but...I am,' Mason said. He made an explosion sound with his mouth and knocked a couple of the soldiers down. Tomorrow was the play his class had been rehearsing. It required him to deliver two lines on his own and he seemed very concerned about it.

Tony came over to him and placed a strong hand on his shoulder.

'No matter what happens,' he said, 'even if you get it all right, or end up being funny and messing up the lines, your mum will be there to see you. She'll be very proud of you.'

Mason nodding, not meeting Tony's eye. He flicked another solider down.

'You're coming too?' he asked after a moment. Tony looked back at him.

'No,' he told him. 'I'm sorry. I can't.'

'You can,' Michelle said suddenly. She had appeared quietly in the kitchen, startling them both. 'If...if you aren't busy, you can come.'

Things had been almost worse than ever between Tony and Michelle since the Saturday morning she'd told him, in no uncertain terms, that there was no hope for them. They'd barely even spoken at all, nothing more than a comment or request over dinner. There had been plenty of looks though; unsure looks from Michelle, incensed ones from Tony. On the whole, they were carefully avoiding each other and another confrontation. They were stuck in a sort of limbo, one that suited neither of them.

Tony was surprised by Michelle's generous offer. She'd been worked hard to avoid the topic of the play with him. He was sure she had forbidden him to come, even if it was just a decision she'd made in her head.

The play was the next night, and though Tony and Michelle arrived separately, they sat together. Mason made his appearance in a slapped together spacesuit costume, a colourful thing constructed from a cardboard box, and though he mumbled a little, he said his lines right. He ran to them outside the school hall later, looking delighted with himself, and asked if they could go to Tendelli's for dinner because he'd done such a good job.

'Yes,' Tony said, when Michelle hesitated to say one way or another. 'Because you were the best up there.'

'Yeah,' Mason said, punching the air. 'Pizza!'

The outing was stilted and awkward, though not for Mason, who seemed to have had a weight lifted from his shoulders now that the play was over. He more or less held court over dinner, talking excitedly at a rate Tony almost found shocking, and required very little input from either parent. Michelle watched him, feeling both heart warmed and despondent, and wondered what age he was going to be when he stopped talking one night, looked over the table at his parents and realised, for the first time, that they were both miserable.

His chatter continued all the way back to the apartment and it was only in the elevator that he seemed to be tiring out. Michelle let them all inside and closed the door, watching Mason fend off a yawn and ramble on to Tony.

'And the girls all had to wear pins in their hair like mum,' he was saying, 'but we didn't because we're boys and we have short hair – except Adrian. He's weird – and even though mine's curly it didn't matter because I was in the spacesuit. And remember when Jude – he's my friend – almost tripped on the light at the edge of the stage and he tried to pretend nothing happen, though I saw it. Did you see it? It was so funny. And then Annika – she's not my friend – got her dress caught on the vent thing behind the curtain and that's why she came on after she was meant to and I thought it was so funny. Did you see?'

Tony nodded.

'Did you see, mum?' He turned to Michelle.

She nodded. 'It's not nice to laugh at people, though,' she explained to him.

He chose to ignore her and turned back to Tony.

'It was pretty funny,' Tony agreed, though he hadn't actually noticed any of these things. He watched Mason closely, smiling at his enthusiasm.

'And my costume,' Mason said, his chest seeming to expand with pride. 'I helped make it in art. Actually, I made most of it. Actually, all of it. I cut the cardboard and put the lights on – I got paper plates for that – and you know the dial things? Well, I painted them. And I cut the arms hole and everything. It was so cool. Wasn't it, dad?'

For a moment, everything in the apartment froze. Everything seemed stuck. It was Mason who broke the moment, letting out a little giggle, shaking his head, his face indicating that he was chiding himself for saying something silly.

'I mean Tony,' he said, smiling contritely. He seemed to think he'd merely misspoke, as though it was a mistake anyone could make. He acted the same way he did when he said something in the past tense instead of the present, or when he couldn't pronounce longer words. He also seemed to think it was nothing and kept chatting away, smiling brightly.

Michelle had yet to take a breath. Tony couldn't move. They looked at each other at the same time, both expressions unreadable. Michelle then took Mason under the arms and put him in bed. He continued to talk at her, but she barely registered his words, and she hugged him and turned off the light and he seemed to think everything was alright.

Michelle remained in the corridor for a while, crying silently. For a moment, she didn't know which direction the living room was in. She eventually found Tony by the couch, staring at the floor.

'Y-you told him?' she asked, shoving tears from her face with the back of her hand.

'No,' Tony breathed.

'Well he knows!' she said. She knew her voice was verging on hysterical, and she struggled to get it back under control. 'How does he know?'

'He doesn't,' Tony said. 'He corrected himself. His mind is just confusing everything he's been taught about parents, everything he's picked up from TV and his school friends and he's starting to recognise that we're a family. He let it slip accidently because his head is telling him that's the right thing to call me, just the way his friends do to their fathers.'

Tony's eyes hadn't left the floor. He looked as disturbed as Michelle felt. He took a long, deep breath, feeling spectacularly upset. Michelle fished a tissue from her bag, trying to contain herself. They both stood there with no purpose, with nothing to do. Michelle had never been at such a loss before. It felt like several minutes passed, though in realty it was closer to an hour, before Tony spoke once more.

'I'm leaving,' he said.

Michelle nodded and turned toward the door.

'No,' Tony said, not moving at all. 'I'm leaving. For good.'

She spun around to look at him.

'W-what?' she asked.

He couldn't meet her gaze, his eyes dark, his face weighed down with despair.

'Tonight,' he said. 'You were right. You were right when you said I had to move on.'

His voice wasn't betraying much emotion, something that surprised him.

'But...' Michelle seemed to be searching herself for something to say. 'H-he's only had you a few weeks. That's not long enough.'

'It's been too long, really,' Tony said.

'No,' Michelle argued. 'You've barely had time to get close to him.'

She wiped tears from her mouth, taking unsteady breaths. She couldn't even categorise what she was feeling, couldn't even label it.

'It's too soon,' she said thickly. 'You've made progress with him. He's opening up to you. He feels happier with you. Don't take it away from him now.'

Tony watched her from the corner of his eye, feeling his heart tighten slightly with each of her tears.

'Just give him a little more time,' she pleaded. 'Don't obliterate the trust you're building in him.'

But Tony shook his head.

'We can't do this,' he said gruffly. 'We can't make nice for him only to take it all away in a few months time. I have to leave now, before he makes more assumptions in his head. I won't do it to him. I won't become a memory he holds onto. I want to leave now while it's easy for him to forget.'

Michelle just stared at him. She knew she should be agreeing. She couldn't understand why she wasn't.

'And you were right about us,' Tony said. 'Of course you were. We...we can't do this. We can't be like this with each other. It'll destroy his home. He might be a kid, but he's not stupid. He can feel it, just the same as we can. It's got to be now.'

'Where will you go?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'Anywhere. It doesn't matter. I don't give a fuck, really.'

'He's going to be so upset,' Michelle murmured, more to herself than him. She sniffed back more tears, but they surged forward anyway. 'He's going to miss you so much.'

'Tell him something,' Tony said. 'Make up some lie that I had to move away. And then reaffirm in him that his father has been dead all long. Make him remember that lie. Separate me from it, so he doesn't confuse us, and keep him believing it.'

Michelle didn't know how to respond. She felt as though all the life was draining from her. She could do nothing but stare at him through the darkness.

'I...I've paid off your mortgage,' he admitted. 'This place is yours forever, if you want it. You own it now.'

Michelle held back a sob at this.

'And keep the money, okay? I've a little more, and I can make it easily. So use it. Get Mason everything he needs and then, for Christ sake, get everything you need. I want you to have it.'

Neither of them said anything for a very long time.

'I know what I've done is unforgivable,' he said softly. Michelle blinked at him. She'd never heard him speak remorsefully about his actions before. 'I know I hurt you...destroyed you really. And I tried to destroy others. If I could take it all back, I would. If I could do the time over, I'd honour you, not disgrace you. But it's done. I can't erase it. I can't pretend it hasn't happened. I was driven insane...you have to understand. I didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to face my pain...'

He shoved his hand over his head, casting around, not wanting her to see his emotion.

'Will you hug him before you leave?'

He shook his head. He seemed to know the act might kill him.

'I gotta go,' he said, moving suddenly to the door.

'Wait!' Michelle said. She came toward him desperately, but stopped herself. She wasn't sure exactly what she would have done but she felt almost furious that she had managed to prevent it. He looked at her, understanding her turmoil.

'Please take care of yourself,' he said urgently. They were quite close, hardly more than a foot apart. 'Don't neglect your health. It worries me. Every fucking day it worries me.'

He opened the door and moved over the threshold. She moved with him. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to grip her face in his hands and seal his mouth over hers. She wasn't ashamed of it. But he didn't, and in the next moment he was gone.

_Reviews are good. Hate letters are welcome. It's all opium to me._


	15. Chapter 15

For the first week, Michelle knew he would come back. She knew Tony. He wouldn't be able to do it, wouldn't be able to stay away, and she anticipated his return with a certain amount of exasperation, almost of a mind to taunt him for having such little resolve. Yes, hearing Mason call him 'dad' had frightened him. It had frightened them both. It had brought home everything Michelle had said about Mason growing up and learning about his parents and everything she had said about their own problems infecting his life and Tony had realised that if he was going to leave it had to be soon, before any real damage was done. Michelle hadn't really expected him to realise it, hadn't expected him to do it, and she stood at the door for seemingly hours after he had left, waiting for him to barge back in and fight obsessively with her about needing to find a way to make things work.

The week had run out, and nothing had happened.

'Yuck,' Mason said. He put down his fork, a piece of heated up lasagna stuck on the end. It had come from a frozen packet.

Michelle almost didn't hear him.

'What?' she asked, looking up. She'd been unknowingly staring at the gap between the fridge and the kitchen counter. 'What's wrong?'

'This tastes gross,' Mason said, shoving the fork away.

'Just eat it,' she said, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

'Why? _You_ aren't eating it.'

'Yes, I am.'

'No, you aren't. You haven't even started.'

'So then you shouldn't have either.'

'Pfft. I don't have to listen to you about that. Only Tony.'

'Be quiet.'

'You're not in charge at dinnertime. You can't tell me what to do.'

'I'm in charge all the time.'

Mason glared at her, and then flung the fork off his plate and onto the table. The oily cheese from the lasagna went everywhere. Michelle gave him a perilous look. 

'Where's Tony?' he demanded, unperturbed. 'Why hasn't he come back?'

'He's gone away.'

'Where though? Where has he gone?'

'If I knew, Mason, I'd tell you, alright?'

Mason said nothing for a moment.

'Has he gone back to his home?'

Mason apparently thought this was a reasonable enough inquiry, but it had a debilitating effect on Michelle, who suddenly felt unable to be in the same room as her son. She could never have predicted how wretched and damaged his question made her feel.

'No,' she said dejectedly, getting to her feet and taking her plate to sink. 'Look, I'm not sure, alright? Just eat your food.' She tipped her own lasagna in the bin, ran the water and began to wash the oil and chewy pasta away from the plate.

'Don't want it. It's gross.'

'Go hungry then,' she muttered over her shoulder. When she turned back Mason wasn't at the table, and his bedroom door was closed.


	16. Chapter 16

Two weeks. Three weeks. A month. He was not coming back. Michelle stopped expecting him, stopped listening out for sounds of him while she was bathing Mason. She felt relieved. She felt thankful.

It was over. She and Mason could go back to the life they'd always led. Michelle didn't have to think of what he'd done, didn't have to face the lives he'd destroyed in her name, didn't have to swallow her guilt every time she looked at him. It was better this way. Easier. No strain, no reopened wounds, no arguments to have with him, or with herself, no reason to feel angry, or torn, or unhappy. Every reason to get things back to normal, to restore the routine of their lives, to try to move on and forget that she'd ever been a federal agent and that she'd ever been married to another.

'Mum?'

Michelle turned from the mirror in her bathroom. Mason was at the door.

'Yes?'

'I'm gonna do a puzzle.'

'Alright. Pack it up when you're finished.'

She turned back to look at herself. She'd been sorting the things around the basin, bringing order to a bathroom that had been neglected for far too long. Mason didn't move.

'Can you help me?'

'What? Pack it up?'

'No. Help me do it.'

'Oh. No, you can play by yourself.'

Still, he didn't move.

'Please?'

'I've got things to do, sweetheart. I'm cleaning.'

'Please,' he said.

'Off you go.'

'Please mum.'

He'd started crying.

'Stop being silly.'

'I want you,' he sniffed, 'to play with me.'

'We'll play later, alright? Just go do the puzzle.'

She jostled him out of the room and returned to the basin and its chaotic mess of toiletries. She looked in the mirror for a moment, hesitating. She then crossed back to the door and closed it with a soft click, just to keep him out for good.

_Reviews are opium._


	17. Chapter 17

Three months had gone by. Something had happened to the apartment. Michelle didn't know what it was. Mason didn't either. Then, at some point, they both realised they didn't like it. They didn't like being in it. They didn't like coming home to it, didn't like eating dinner together in the kitchen, and they almost never watched TV on the couch anymore.

Mason had starting spending a lot of time in his room. He'd been learning to read, and the motivation of picking up one of his books and reading it to himself without any help kept him engaged and encouraged him to practice. Every once in a while, however, Michelle walked by his room to find him without a book in hand. Instead, she'd noticed him sitting on his floor, flicking toy soldiers across the carpet so that they disappeared beneath his bed.

Michelle began spending a lot of time in the spare room, the one she used as a study. She brought work home with her and spent her evenings at her computer, typing steadily until Mason came in and asked to be put to bed. Once he was asleep she returned to the computer, working away until eleven or eleven thirty, when she in turn put herself to bed.

Weekends became slightly strange. Mason often wanted to go to Jude's house, or his other friend Theo's, and on the days he didn't go he seemed glued to his Gameboy or the television. He had, at some point, stopped asking to go shopping to look at toys, or out to lunch, or to the park. Michelle would take him anyway, and though he was good for her, it seemed he wasn't quite able to mask the fact that he wanted to be somewhere else.

'Ms Wright?'

'Yes,' Michelle said, recognizing the voice on the phone. She was at work, and immediately sat up straight in her chair, feeling her breath catch. 'This is Camille.'

'Yes, hello,' said the principal's voice.

'Mason?' Michelle asked. 'What's happened? Has he gone missing?'

She wasn't sure why, but she realised the prospect didn't frighten her. It didn't cast cold, rigid terror over her at all.

'No, Ms Wright,' the principal said, sounding strangely disgruntled. 'Mason has actually got himself in trouble. He's been violent toward another student. We'd like you to come to pick him up after school, and to come to my office while you're here. The other student's parents have requested a meeting with you.'

Several hours later, Michelle left the school gates with Mason in tow. She turned to him on the street.

'I don't understand what happened,' she said, half furious, half worried.

Mason shrugged.

'Don't like Annika,' he said.

'You don't like her?'

'No.'

'So you hit her in the face with Theo's tennis racket?'

He shrugged again.

'It was all I could find.'

Michelle just stared at him for a moment.

'No,' she said, feeling out of her depth, 'No, I don't care why you used the tennis racket. I care about why you did it at all.'

'She was being annoying at lunch. She kept running over the grass where we were trying to play. She wouldn't go away.'

'But…but that's not a reason to hit her! You broke her nose, Mason. You _broke_ it. Her parents are so angry. They were yelling at me because of what you did.'

'Well, she wouldn't go away,' he said, sounding frustrated. 'She wouldn't do what I wanted her to do so I hit her.'

For a moment, Michelle felt as though she was looking at a child she didn't know. As though she was looking at someone else's kid.

'Mason,' she said softly, annoyed to hear her voice crack. 'This is a _very_ big deal. You're in a lot of trouble. You can not - _must not_ - hit other people.'

'I know,' he said. 'I won't. Can we just go home now?'

Michelle didn't know what to say. She couldn't think of a response that was appropriate to her small son breaking an even smaller girl's nose. She could deny him dessert, say he wasn't allowed to watch TV, ban him from his Gameboy…but that didn't seem enough. She just had no idea what to do.

'Mrs Marlow said you haven't been very good in class either,' she said, as they walked down the street. 'She said you've been rude to her.'

He kicked a squashed soda can out of his way as he walked.

'Mrs Marlow is dumb,' he said, and refused to say anything more on the matter.

_Poor Michelle. Naughty Mason. It's no good at all. Hit me with some opium, tell me what you're thinkin._


	18. Chapter 18

Three months turned into four months and Mason's sixth birthday was fast approaching. His adult teeth had finally decided to show themselves, little hints of white appearing in his pink gums. He'd had to have a haircut and get a new pair of trainers in the time that had passed and, to Michelle's relief, he hadn't acted out at school again. He had apologised to Annika, even if Michelle had had to stand there and force him to after school one day. The girl's nose was almost back down to its original size.

Mason was less excited about school nowadays. The thrill of it had worn off, and he'd been punished for his brutality and rudeness with timeouts and classroom chores, something he found embarrassing and tedious. It was Michelle who had to wake him up in the mornings now, instead of him running in to wake her.

Still, he'd made friends. Great friends, and so Michelle decided that a small sixth birthday party was in order. He'd seemingly repented for his offenses at school and god knew he'd never had anyone commemorate his birthday before except his mother. Their lonely celebratory dinners in the corner booths of restaurants were fond memories, but it was about time he spent one surrounded by friends, with someone other than the passing waitress to take the photos.

When Michelle sat down to work the party into her budget, she found herself staring at the figures. Of course, there was no mortgage to pay anymore, which left her with more money than she knew what to do with, not to mention the generous sum that had been deposited four months ago. It seemed Mason could have a birthday party on the moon if he wanted to, with no financial limitations at all.

Of course, Michelle organised a modest lunch at a place that had a games arcade just for kids and nearly all the boys in his class replied in the affirmative to the invitation. Mason hadn't wanted any girls to attend.

The night before the event she struggled to put him to sleep. He was so excited he seemed to be bouncing off the walls and a spent a good hour trying to do strange, testosterone-fuelled things like pole-vaulting the couch and running full-pelt up the corridor and crash-landing onto Michelle's bed

'Hey,' Michelle said, coming out of the shower to find him trying to launch himself off the kitchen table onto a pile of cushions on the floor. 'HEY!'

He looked up at her.

'Don't do that,' she said, taking him under the arms and dragging him off the table. 'You'll break your neck.'

'No,' he said. 'No way! Did you see the cartwheel I did before?'

'Yes,' Michelle said. 'And I saw when you crashed into the coffee table as well. It's time for bed.'

'It's my birthday tomorrow,' he said breathlessly, as if his mother could have forgotten. 'It's my birthdaaaay!'

'I know!' she said with a grin, suddenly loving the feeling of him in her arms, and gripping him even tighter. He held her back just as lovingly. She could feel his heart beating wildly against her.

'I'm so excited,' he giggled.

'I know,' Michelle said. 'I'm excited too. Six is very grown up. Pretty soon you're going to be bigger than me.'

'Yeah,' he said, his face against hers. 'Then I'll be able to pick you up!'

She plopped him down in bed and took up a book to read to him while his heart rate slowed. It reality, it took nearly five books before his eyes starting getting heavy, and Michelle pulled his covers to his chin.

'I love you so much,' she said. The last few months hadn't been good to them, and she'd felt just as isolated from him as he had from her.

'Love you,' he said, his hand on her arm.

'Tomorrow's going to be the best,' she said, kissing his forehead.

'Yeah,' he agreed, unable to contain a massive, sleepy grin.

Michelle sat up in bed for a long time that night. Hours had gone by before finally she took out her phone, typed out a text message and sent it.

It read:

_It's his birthday tomorrow. _


	19. Chapter 19

Michelle awoke with her stomach in knots, long before her alarm was set to go off. She felt restless and jittery and unable to lie still, and so she ventured down to the kitchen to make coffee. She felt slightly disappointed that she found no dark figure strewn across the couch, no sign of him making toast, no hint of him loitering in the apartment.

She wasn't sure why she expected to see him only hours after she'd sent him the message. She didn't know where he was, but expecting him within that time was overshooting things a bit. He hadn't replied either, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. She sat at the table in the dawn light and told herself to calm down. If he was going to show, then he was going to show.

Mason leapt out of bed a little while later and, after receiving a "happy birthday!" from his mother, resumed his dangerous antics around the house, unable to sit still. He had never had a party before, and his enthusiasm was, in Michelle's opinion, totally warranted. The apartment itself seemed to be buzzing despite there being only two occupants, and the general vibe was one of unrelenting expectancy and exuberance. Mason was running through the place, wrapped up in the thought of his party, and Michelle was hurrying around, getting things ready, feeling her heart beat fiercely at the idea of a certain someone showing up to aid them in the celebration.

Noon rolled around, and Michelle took Mason to the restaurant. He tried to help her attach balloons to the backs of the chairs and set out party plates, but he was, for the most part, too energized to do anything other than get in the way.

His best friends Jude and Theo arrived, both clutching presents and looking hungrily at the games arcade at the back of the restaurant.

'We can play after lunch,' Mason told them, his voice a symphony of happy emotion. 'Thanks for the presents!'

The rest of his friends arrived, all toting gifts of varying sizes, which for some reason, Mason had not expected. He'd only received presents from Michelle and Tony before and it seemed the idea of all the people he knew bringing delightful things just for him was enough to send him into a fit of overwhelmed gratitude.

Lunch was a banquet of junk food and sugary drinks, which the boys all demolished at a furious rate, and Michelle sat with several of the boys' parents at another table, watching them and chatting about their school. Every now and then she glanced at the door. Every time it opened she looked up. But it was never him. She glanced at her phone. No new messages.

'Is Tony coming?' Eliza asked. Michelle jumped slightly in her chair and turned to look at the woman.

Eliza was Jude's mother. She was a single parent who worked diligently at a job in marketing for a department store and always looked as though she hadn't slept in several weeks. Michelle liked her, and when they'd first met they'd bonded over the various aspects of being single mothers. Right now, Michelle stared at her as though she had spoken in another language.

'I'm sorry?' Michelle asked.

Eliza gave a small shrug.

'Mason keeps mentioning someone named Tony to Jude. He talks about him all the time,' she said. 'Is he coming today?'

Eliza didn't seem anything other than curious, even happy, about the fact that it sounded as though Michelle had a new man in her life.

'I…I uh,' Michelle stammered. 'I'm not sure.'

Eliza nodded sympathetically.

'Well, if he comes then he comes,' she said kindly. 'I guess we can't make these men do anything they don't want to.'

Michelle smiled bravely at Eliza, grateful that she didn't ask intrusive questions or try to delve into a past Michelle simply couldn't explain. She suddenly felt exceptionally thankful to have Eliza at the party.

'I think the boys are having a great time,' she was saying as Michelle extracted herself from her thoughts. 'Almost too great.'

Michelle looked up to see a contest taking place at the boys' table that involved food being lobbed from a catapult constructed from plastic spoons.

'Oh god,' Michelle muttered. Eliza laughed good-naturedly.

'To think,' she mused dryly, 'we could've had daughters.'

Michelle nodded and went to break up the food throwing contest. The young man the restaurant had provided to host the party reappeared by her side and announced that lunch was over, and that the boys could move to the arcade if they wished. It turned out that they did wish, and all of them shot off their chairs to go and play.

Michelle watched them go, but then turned suddenly to the door, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She shook her head, feeling foolish. She'd almost felt someone's eyes on her, but no one new was in the restaurant, and no one was looking at her. After a moment she took a few steps toward the glass windows and peered out into the street. It was busy with people doing their Sunday shopping, and though Michelle scanned the crowds carefully, she saw no sign of Tony at all. Feeling suddenly as though she might cry, she turned from the window and went back to talk to Eliza.

'I heard about what happened with Mason and that girl Annika,' Eliza said. 'Pretty unfortunate.'

'Yeah,' Michelle said, feeling guilty. 'Poor thing.'

'Oh no,' Eliza said. 'I meant unfortunate for you, having to deal with her parents. That girl is a little brat and her parents make me sick. They pander to her every whim. They think she can do no wrong.'

'Oh?' Michelle said, feeling her mouth curl up in a small smile. 'They do?'

'Mmhmm,' Eliza said. 'No wonder the boys can't stand her. I think Jude hates her even more than Mason. He was quite disappointed he didn't get to hit her himself.'

Michelle laughed softly.

'I don't think Mason was having a great few weeks at the time,' she confided to Eliza. 'I think he was just looking for a way to vent his frustration.'

'His frustration?'

Michelle played with the edge of the paper plate on her table. Eliza watched her astutely.

'Well, anyway,' she said robustly. 'I'm sure he felt better about whatever was bothering him after it.'

Michelle nodded and, once Eliza had turned away, she risked another glance at the door. Her phone hadn't registered any new messages, and by the time the restaurant bought the cake out and the boys had crowded around to give a roaring rendition of Happy Birthday, Michelle was feeling quite desperate. The party was almost over.

She took photos of Mason surrounded by his friends, photos of him playing arcade games, photos of him cutting his cake and blowing out the candles, photos of him laughing rowdily in a party hat. Eliza then stole the camera and forced Michelle into another round of pictures, and by the time it was four o'clock the parents were thanking her for a lovely party and trying to coerce their boys - who were still having fun - that they needed an early night for school tomorrow.

By five o'clock, Michelle and Eliza were the only parents left, and Mason and Jude were in the corner surreptitiously trying to open Mason's presents without being caught. Michelle had told him he could only open them at home.

'Come on, Jude,' Eliza said, once she'd helped Michelle clear the things away. 'Time to go.'

Jude made a fuss for five minutes, then took in the frightening look on his mother's face and complied, but not before ensuring Mason would come over after school the next day.

Then, it was just Mason and Michelle. They stood at the table together, packing the presents into a large carry bag. Michelle tried to fend off her own mounting emotion. The party was over. Tony hadn't come.

'Had fun?' Michelle asked Mason after they'd both been quiet for a while.

Mason nodded. He was playing with a party streamer on the table. He seemed to have something on his mind.

'Can we go home now?' he asked. Michelle nodded, watching him, concerned.

They returned to their building and she let him into the apartment, where he immediately looked toward the kitchen and the table. He seemed to be looking for something, or rather some_one_, and couldn't hide his deep disappointment when he found nothing.

Michelle bent down to hug him warmly, keeping him in her arms for longer than usual.

'Let's open your presents,' she said to him, her hand in his hair. He nodded, but didn't look at her. When he turned to take the present bag she noticed his eyes were slightly teary.

After Michelle put him to bed she sat down at her computer and broke into the FBI database. It took her several hours, but she didn't stop until she forced her way through all their layers of security and dug up Tony Almeida's file. She was terrified of what she might see, but she had to know. She had to know if something had happened to him, something terrible. Her eyes scanned the file diligently. It didn't say "In Custody". It didn't say "Deceased." It just said "Missing".

Michelle didn't sleep much that night, and watched the clock tick over to a new day. Mason's birthday was over. She couldn't stop crying. She knew she ought to feel ashamed, knew she ought to hate herself for feeling upset. This was what she wanted. This was what she'd driven him away for. So they could go back to normal, so he wouldn't interfere, so she didn't have to have him in her life. He'd made mistakes, terrible, unforgettable mistakes, but, Michelle told herself, he'd made them because he'd lost her. Her and Mason. And now they'd lost him, and suddenly she realised she didn't despise him nearly as much as she seemed to despise herself.

_Reviews = opium x_


	20. Chapter 20

The next day was not a good day. Not for Mason. Not for Michelle.

Mason was quiet over breakfast. Not even his new horde of toys from the party had taken the sting off the disappointment he'd felt the night before. He seemed all but destroyed that Tony hadn't shown up. Michelle was interested to see that Mason had anticipated his father just as much as she had, though the two of them had not discussed the prospect of it at all. They still hadn't discussed it mostly because Michelle didn't know how to approach him about it or how to ease his unhappiness once she explained to him that he might never see his father again.

She hadn't slept at all. She simply did not know how to move on, how to face the new day. She'd made a mistake. She knew that now. She'd thought she known what she was doing, thought she'd been protecting Mason, and herself, from the evil of her old husband. She didn't feel that way anymore. She tried to feel disgraced, tried to feel guilty about what he'd done, but couldn't manage it. He'd been pushed to the edge; he'd been provoked and moved to violence, he hadn't known what else to do. Michelle understood now - she didn't like it, not one bit, and she was sure she'd never properly get past it - but she understood.

Michelle met Mason at the kitchen table. He pushed his cereal around his bowl and she broke bits of her toast up between her fingers.

'Going to Jude's house this afternoon?'

'Yeah.'

'I'll get you after I'm finished at work. Around five?'

She knew Mason didn't have much concept of time, but he seemed to know five o'clock was too early.

'Maybe a bit later than that? Please, mum?'

'Six?'

'Yeah.'

Michelle bit her lip.

'You'll have fun,' she said quietly.

He nodded and slurped down a halfhearted spoonful of cereal.

'Sweetheart?' Michelle asked, touching his arm. He looked up at her. 'Are you alright?'

He looked back at his bowl.

'Yeah.'

'Everything's going to be okay,' Michelle murmured, feeling tears prick her eyes. She held his hand across the table. 'I promise. You'll stop missing him one day.'

He frowned at her, surprised that she knew the source of his sadness. He shrugged and continued eating. Michelle left the table then, and made it to her bedroom before a stray tear snaked down her face.

The day dragged on at the office, despite the fact that Michelle worked furiously from the moment she arrived. By the time she left, it was nearing six and she'd seemed to have doubled her productivity for the day. This didn't surprise her. She had a history of throwing herself into her work when things went wrong in her life, usually things that involved her husband.

She had a quick chat with Eliza when she picked Mason up, but didn't linger. Eliza seemed to realise something had gone horribly wrong after the party yesterday, and Michelle was worried she was going to ask about it. She didn't know if she could mask her emotions this soon after the blow, or at all even, and so she took Mason away in a hurry.

They were mostly silent on the short walk back to their building. The weather was warmer now, and Michelle asked if Mason wanted to stop by the park on the way home. He didn't. She realised she didn't either, and they continued the walk back, Michelle wrapping her arms around herself, feeling desperately lost.

The elevator ride up to the apartment was silent too. Michelle opened the front door and went to the flick the light switch, only to find that the lights were already on. It was at that moment that Mason let out a loud, unrestrained shout of elation.

'TONY!'

Mason left Michelle's side in a flash and sprinted into the apartment. Tony left the kitchen, where he'd been sitting at the table, and met him in the living room. Mason launched himself into his arms, and Tony gripped him tightly, looking astonished and deeply thankful to be holding his little son.

'Hey,' Tony said softly, his hand going up to rest against Mason's head. Mason clung to him, pressing his face into his father's shoulder. Tony was stunned to realise his child had started crying.

'Mase,' Tony said softly, rubbing his back soothingly. 'Hey, Mason, it's okay. Everything's okay.'

Mason nodded into him.

'Where d-did you go?' he mumbled. He sniffed loudly. Tony tightened his grip around him.

'Had to go away,' he explained, his voice almost a whisper. It seemed if he tried anything more substantial his emotion would be highly apparent in his words. 'Had to leave for a bit. But…I heard it was your birthday, so I came to see you.'

'It was yesterday,' Mason said. 'I thought you were gonna come then. I h-had a party. It was the best.'

Tony pulled back from him and nodded.

'I know,' he said, his eyes red. 'I missed it. I'm…I'm so sorry.'

'S'okay,' Mason said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He seemed so indescribably overjoyed and overwhelmed to see him that yesterday was all but forgotten.

'Got you something,' Tony said, nodding at the kitchen table. Mason's head whipped around to see a gift waiting for him in green wrapping paper with a gold bow on top.

'Whoa!' Mason said. 'Can I open it?'

'In a bit,' Tony said. 'Do you want to go get some of your other presents to show me first?'

'Yes!' Mason said. 'I got the coolest stuff.'

He went to get down, but hesitated. He then wrapped his arms around Tony's neck and held him tightly. Tony closed his eyes, unable to move or breathe, only able to cradle his boy to him.

'Alright,' Tony said hoarsely, putting him down. 'Go get your stuff.'

Mason was already running off, yelling incomprehensible words of excitement as he went.

Michelle hadn't moved from the front door in the entire time Mason had been in Tony's arms. She hadn't even closed it behind her. She couldn't do anything except stand and stare.

Tony came toward her and she tensed slightly. He reached behind her, pulled the door shut and locked it. He stood looking at her for a long moment.

'I uh…I'm sorry I wasn't there yesterday,' he said quietly. He eyed her carefully. He'd never seen her go so long without blinking before.

'Why weren't you?' she asked just as softly.

He scratched his face, looking extremely uncomfortable.

'I mean…I was there…I watched for a bit…but I didn't come in and for that I'm sorry.'

They kept looking at each other. They both seemed aware that Mason had come back into the living room, a stack of colourful playthings swaying dangerously in his arms. He put the stack down with a small crash and began sorting through it.

'Tony!' he barked, holding up an action figurine. 'Look! I got this! And this!' He waved a board game at them.

'That's great, Mase,' Tony said. 'Just gimme a second, then I'll look.'

'Okay,' Mason said breathlessly. 'Okay, I'll …I'll pick out the best stuff for you!'

Michelle watched as he refocused his attention on her.

'You didn't come in?' Michelle asked.

'No,' Tony said. 'I wanted to. You have no idea…you have no idea how much I wanted to. You know, when I left, I told myself it was for good. I didn't want to come back, even for his birthday. I didn't want to change anything, to mess things up here or to cause more problems for you. I wanted to be there yesterday, but I made myself leave. I can't be a visitor in his life…' he trailed off for a moment. 'And I can't be around you and not be with you. It's not possible for me.'

'So why are you here?'

He cleared his throat and glanced at Mason, who seemed to be busy debating the merit of a toy truck against the value of a glow-in-the-dark toy alien under his breath. The alien seemed to win out.

'I also told myself that if you ever called me back, no matter what the reason, I would come.'

'I did,' Michelle said. 'That was the message.'

'Yeah,' Tony agreed. 'I realised that today.'

Michelle looked closely at him. He hadn't shaved in a while, and his eyes were exhausted and heavy. His skin seemed paler than usual, as though he hadn't had much sun or sleep.

'Been a bad couple of months?' she asked.

He dropped his gaze, unable to answer her, looking overcome with emotion. After a moment he glanced at her.

'You?' he asked.

'The worst,' she breathed.

He was truly shocked when she stepped into his embrace, her hands against his chest as his arms encircled her, her face occupying the slightly damp space on his shoulder that Mason's had only minutes earlier.

Tony held her, breathing her in deeply, her hair tickling his face. She was so warm and soft, so frail and fatigued, that he wanted to wrap her up and place her somewhere safe forever.

Michelle leaned into him, drawing him close, feeling the strain and uncertainty of the last four months leave her. He felt so good. So, so good to her. It was a relief just to see him again, safe and sound, and, she realised, a pleasure to hold him. Suddenly, Michelle felt Mason head butt her hip, and she broke away from Tony. Mason stood between them, looking suspiciously from one to the other.

'Come see my toys?' he asked Tony. Tony grinned at him.

'Yeah, let's have a look.'

An hour later, Tony left Mason's side to make dinner. Mason didn't mind in the slightest, and even put his toys neatly back in his room like Tony asked. As he was doing so Michelle padded into the kitchen, where she stood watching Tony for a moment.

'Can…can I help?'

Tony looked at her, surprised.

'Yeah…yeah, here.'

He handed her several things to chop. Michelle gave a wane smile. During their marriages, she'd often been delegated chopping chores. Dinners weren't much of a success if she did anything more. The act of standing there, slicing things as he tended to more complex gastronomic matters, was the most comforting thing she'd done in over six years.

'Where've you been?' she asked softly.

'Here,' he said. 'I haven't left Toronto.'

'Oh. What've you been doing?'

'Watching you,' he said unashamedly. 'Watching Mason. Doing a bit of work for the Canadian government.'

'What?'

He gave an uncomfortable smile.

'They don't know who I am,' he said quickly. 'They have no idea, actually, and I never meet them face to face. I do freelance work for them, mostly consultation for operations. They send me their plans and I send them back with modifications and insights. I approached them over it, and they didn't trust me at first of course, but it's panned out. They've been giving me steady work. They throw in some analysis occasionally. Like you, it's a bit below my qualifications, but I like it. I feel productive. Useful. The pay isn't great, but I hardly need money.'

She diced a zucchini slowly as he made some sort of marinade. They both had their backs to each other.

'We have to talk,' she said after several minutes of silence.

'Yeah,' he agreed.

Neither said anything for another minute.

'Look,' Tony eventually muttered. 'I need to know if we can do this. Because…because it we can't…I don't think I could get past it, you know? So you gotta tell me now.'

'We can,' Michelle murmured. 'The last four months without you…he hasn't been happy. I haven't been okay. Things haven't worked. Things with him didn't go back to the way they were. I didn't want to, but I realised we need you. I still sometimes don't want that to be the case. I still want to believe we can be without you…but we can't.'

She turned slightly to see him nod.

'You know when I first realised I wanted you back with us?'

He turned to her and shook his head.

'Mason asked me if you'd gone back to your home.'

Tony gave her a long, concerned look.

'What did you say?'

'Nothing…I said something to brush him off. But that question made me realise that your home is here. Where else can it be? You don't belong anywhere else. You never will. You belong here with us, with your family. I don't want to take that from you. Who am I to refuse you entry to the place you belong?'

She handed him the chopped ingredients, and he took them from her and cast them into the marinade.

'This is not going to be easy,' she said. 'I can't just have everything better again. It's going to take a long time for me to be with you and not feel like I'm doing something wrong, not feel like I'm reveling in the lives that were lost…but I _do_ want to be with you. That much I know.'

He nodded.

'The way you acted when we first saw each other,' he said, 'at first I couldn't believe it. I thought it was going to be different, I thought we were going to hold each other and …I'd spent so long thinking you were dead…'

He struggled with himself for a moment.

'I expected differently, but now I know how stupid that was. All the things we did, all the things we've ever done, were for our country. I know how much I destroyed you with what I did…I know now. I'm sorry. I'll never be able to repair this with you, but I need you to know how sorry I am.'

She nodded.

'I love you,' she explained, her voice almost clinical. 'You know that I love you.'

He looked at her.

'I love you,' he returned.

She nodded.

'I know.'

They both seemed suddenly struck with an odd sense of awkwardness.

'Uh…come here,' Tony said, taking her small, soft hand and pulling her close.

'Hey!'

They jumped apart. Mason had appeared in the kitchen. He was frowning.

'Can we have dinner now please? I'm hungry.'

'Y-yes,' Michelle said, feeling her face grow warm. She tucked a curl behind her ear, sensing Tony's eyes on her as she moved away from him. 'I'll set the table.'

Mason did not even attempt to start before his mother, or his father, for that matter, and talked incessantly from the moment everyone was seated. He relayed every tiny detail of his party to his father, and Michelle prompted him when he left bits out. They showed Tony the photos, and though Tony and Michelle had barely eaten half their dinner, Mason had finished and begged to open his father's present.

Inside the wrapping he found a clock with green jade rimming. It was a small, heavy thing with little legs so that it could stand upright on a bedside table. It looked costly and very well made and Mason frowned at it. In his opinion it was not one of the more awesome presents he'd received that birthday.

Tony just smiled knowingly at him.

'I'm going to teach you to tell the time,' he said, his hand on Mason's shoulder. 'You like learning to read, right?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, telling the time is important too. You'll be able to know exactly when you're meant to be somewhere, or how long it is still the end of school, or exactly what time mum will come and pick you. You'll be able to know exactly when I'll be over at night and you'll be able to complain when mum takes an hour to get ready to go out.'

Mason giggled.

'Cool,' he said sweetly. 'It's green.'

'I know,' Tony said. 'It does something else too.' He fiddled with the back for a moment before a chiming version of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" filled the kitchen.

'I had it made so it would play that as the alarm,' Tony said. 'Once you learn you'll be able to know exactly what time the Blue Jays' play and we can watch them together.'

Mason grinned.

'Thanks,' he said, and he pressed the button at the back so that the alarm sounded out once more.

'It's beautiful,' Michelle said, biting at another forkful of food. Tony gave her a small, hesitant smile and watched her eat.

'We're going to have dinner early tomorrow night,' he told her after a while.

She chewed slowly and raised her eyebrows.

'We are? Why?'

'Because Mason's going to bed early.'

'Any particular reason for that?'

'Yes. We're going to make love.'

Michelle's fork clanged loudly against the rim of her plate. Tony blinked calmly at her. For a moment she could only stare at him. Then her eyes flickered to Mason. He wasn't paying attention to them all, and the chimes of the alarm clock were keeping him well and truly engaged.

'And we're going to do it for most of the night.'

Michelle forced her gaze back to Tony. He was watching her, his eyes dark, his face oddly composed. Michelle suddenly felt as though her heart was trying to beat itself out of her chest. She prayed her face wasn't as red as it felt.

'I…uh,' she stammered.

But Tony didn't let her argue. He left the table, taking Mason with him, and put him to bed. He read an array of picture books, put his new clock on his bedside table and set it to go off for school the next morning, and then hugged him tightly.

He came back out to Michelle, who hadn't managed to move from her chair in the kitchen. He stood behind her and held her face in his hands. He pressed a long, soft kiss to the top of her head.

'I'll see you tomorrow,' he promised in her ear, his voice a low, needy growl. A moment later he was gone.

_Reviews are opium and if I don't get opium I'll hold the next chapter hostage. Don't think I won't x_


	21. Chapter 21

**I apologise profusely for the wait with this chapter. I promise I wasn't holding it hostage to garner reviews or any other unsexy thing – though I know I did make that hosebeasty threat. I promise I'm not a compliment whore (really, I'm not – if anything they make me embarrassed and gooey and weird). My laptop – poor thing – died a truly spectacular death a couple of nights ago because I'd been writing in bed and it overheated on the blankets. Sigh. I'm so sorry if I kept anyone waiting, and I just want to say thank you very much to anyone who has been reading these chapters as they come – I feel very indebted to you. To those who review – I can't express my appreciation enough, I really can't. Your ****generosity****staggers me – so cheers!**

* * *

><p><em>I'll pick him up today.<em>

_You will?_

_Yes. I want to go to the park after school._

_Can't it wait until the weekend?_

_No. I want to tire him out for tonight._

Michelle stared at her phone on her desk for a long moment before the next message came through.

_You're blushing. _

She twisted in her seat, her gaze shooting to the window beside her. She looked down at the street, then at the building opposite, her eyes darting from side to side, trying to work out where he was. She gave up and tried to focus back on her work, but found she couldn't. She couldn't concentrate on anything. She felt anxious, she felt agitated. She felt a lot of things, most of which she couldn't properly indentify. There was a sort of constriction somewhere in her chest that was making it slightly difficult to breathe. She hadn't been with him for six years. _Six years_. While she was sure nothing had changed, she felt a looming sense of discomfort.

She'd never thought she'd have sex again. Honestly, she hadn't. After learning that Tony was dead, going on the run, having this child and trying to give it the best life possible, she'd felt no inclination to date. Ever. What point was there? How could she be with another man? How could she give herself over to some other person? She knew she'd never be able to enjoy another man's company, not when the memory of her beautiful husband lingered so poignantly in her life, not when she missed him so much everyday. Then, when she'd learned that he was alive and doing unspeakable things, things that repulsed her, her mindset changed. Maybe…maybe one day she could forget about him. She could come to terms with the fact that he was evil and off limits and she'd be able to move on. But even then, the idea had a sour feel to it, a strange, unpleasant flavor, and Michelle had resigned herself to the fact that she was a mother now and that was all. She would never be anything more to anyone.

But he was here. He was trying to redeem himself, trying to be good to their son, trying to explain himself to her…and she had missed him. How badly she had missed him. She had breathed him in last night when they'd embraced and he'd smelled exactly the way he always had. That hadn't changed. It had been so good she'd almost grown dizzy from it.

She stayed at work longer than usual. There wasn't any particular reason for that, and she was doing things that could easily be done tomorrow. Tasks and bookkeeping that just weren't very important. She didn't know why, but she felt intensely nervous, almost stressed at the prospect of the evening alone with Tony…and couldn't quite bring herself to go back to the apartment yet.

It was nearly six when another message registered on her phone.

_Dinner's on the table_.

She suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed, like a child who'd been caught doing something wrong. She didn't want Tony to think she was nervous, didn't want him to think she was afraid to be with him. They'd been married twice, for Christ's sake. What was there to be worried about?

_I'm on my way._

To her relief, Mason was still awake when she got home.

'Good!' he said, coming to hug her as she put down her bag. 'I'm starving.'

'You haven't eaten yet?'

'Nope. Had to wait for you.'

Tony was standing by the table, watching her.

'Hey,' he said.

'Hey,' Michelle returned softly, not quite meeting his gaze as she putting Mason down. He ran to his chair.

'We're having mushroom spaghetti again!'

Michelle looked fleetingly at Tony, whose eyes were brazenly running the length of her figure. She swallowed uncomfortably, and went to take her seat. Tony moved to take his, and Michelle watched him from the corner of her eye. He did the same to her. They were both keenly aware of each other, more so than ever before.

'How was your day?' Tony asked, as Mason ploughed into his dinner between them.

Michelle looked up at him, suddenly realizing how small the dinner table was. Tony was a mere few feet away.

'Fine,' she said, glad to hear her was voice was level.

'Busy?'

'Not really.'

'Why so late then?'

'Oh…well, I mean, it was busy, just not crazy. I…I had a few things to finish up.'

She glanced at him. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn't. She returned to her food.

Mason was chattering on about school and Tony was listening closely, asking him questions and every few minutes casting Michelle a long, wanting look. Then, before Michelle even knew it, Mason was finished. He kissed her cheek and let Tony take him to bed and Michelle listened to them chuckle away together in his room for a little while, reading books and being generally silly.

She got to her feet, annoyed to see her fingers trembling slightly, and cleared away the things from dinner. She ran the water and started the dishes, and didn't hear the conversation between her son and husband lull, or hear the door close, or hear Tony as he came up behind her.

She jumped slightly when she felt his body make contact with hers, bearing down against her lightly, trapping her against the sink, his hands resting on her hips in an overwhelmingly possessive gesture. It was one that used to thrill her, one that used to send her into a flurry of desire. Right now, it made it difficult to breathe.

'Is Mason –?'

'Asleep,' he said shortly.

She felt his nose against her hair, felt him draw her even further to him, his body hard against her soft one. His fingers had starting moving, climbing up along her waist, feather-light against the fabric of her suit. She shuddered, and resisted the urge to make her feelings known to him by letting out a sigh or a moan or something equally as embarrassing. He was only touching her, after all, and not even in a way that would normally solicit a verbal confirmation of her pleasure. His had stood behind her and gripped her body to his thousands of times before…but it _had_ been six years since then. Six very long years.

'Tony,' she murmured. 'Just…just let me dry my hands…'

'No,' he instructed into her ear, his voice crude and laden with need. 'No. Finish that.'

She frowned at the sink, and felt his hands tightened ever so slightly around her. She knew she was trembling, and she knew he could feel it.

'I…a-alright,' she stammered. Her hands returned to the dish she was washing, and she felt his chin rest upon her shoulder, watching her hands as they moved in the water.

'You're nervous,' he observed. As he said it his hold on her tightened once more. She could feel him, hard against her already. She swallowed, feeling as though flames were creeping up her chest, over her neck and spilling onto her face. Her heart felt as though it was bumping around in her chest, as though trying to escape.

'I-I'm not,' she said, her voice small.

Tony scrutinised her hands again. She willed them to stop shaking, to be calm, as she rinsed some cutlery, but to no avail.

'You are,' he said, his voice little more than a gravelly whisper against her. His thumbs began making slow strokes against her hips. 'Why?'

She didn't answer him and concentrated on placing a plate as steadily as possible on the nearby drying rack.

'We're taking this slow,' Tony informed her when he received no response. 'It's been six years. Tonight is going to happen gradually, understand? Bit by bit.'

She swallowed when she felt his hands leave their place on her hips and trail up her back, moving as though he was the owner of those parts of her body. His hands cupped her neck for a moment before she felt his fingers delve into her hair. He found the pins holding her abundant curls in place and, one by one, gently pulled them free. It was agonizing. Each tender tug of her hair felt exquisite, each time his fingers brushed against her head she felt her breath catch. To be like this, in his grasp…she couldn't understand it, couldn't address it, couldn't put a label on it. She'd thought, for so long, that he was gone.

Tony gathered most of her curls, now free and hanging loose, in his hands and scrunched them lovingly between his fingers. He brought the messy bunch to his face and breathed in deeply, totally unconcerned as to how Michelle reacted. This action seemed a necessity to him, something non-negotiable, something he had to do. They both knew she had no say in this.

He exhaled against her neck, a dark, rumbling, hungry sound, his breath searing hot.

'Fuck,' he said to himself, as though the smell of her hair had pushed him over some sort of personal threshold. He continued to breathe her in, his hands finding purchase on her shoulders, where he dug gently into the material between his skin and hers, massaging her as he took in her scent again and again.

With all his movements, Michelle had quite forgotten about the sink until he peered down over her shoulder once more.

'You haven't finished the dishes,' he notified her. 'Finish them.'

Biting down on her lip, Michelle rinsed off the last plate, feeling weak and dizzy. Chills were running down her spine without respite, as soon as one fell away another one started. She put the plate on the drying rack, and the last of the cutlery, and fished around in the soapsuds for anything she might have missed. She was just realising that she'd done them all when Tony's hands shot out to grip her wrists, holding them still in the warm water. He reached across to the counter, took up a hand towel, and pulled one of her hands out into the cool air. He pressed her skin to the towel firmly, wrapped her fingers with it, slowly, excruciatingly, dried each tiny bit of sodden skin. He repeated the process with her another hand, watching himself work over her shoulder, his face pressed to her cheek.

Michelle gazed down alongside him, his hands easily enveloping hers. She knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what this was about. As soon as he'd shot out to snatch her wrists she'd known. He'd always had a love affair with her hands. He'd spent hours lying in bed with her, clutching her hands in his, stroking them, holding them to his mouth, to his chest, making low, guttural comments about how little they were, how delicate, how soft, taking time to kiss and gently suck each finger, his tongue running so slowly along their length. Whenever she took him in her hands it drove him wild. He loved to watch her caress him, loved to watch her stroke him, adored the sight of her perfect, pale fingers wrapped around him. There were few things that turned him on more.

And now, her hands were caged within his, as though he was trying to protect them, as though trying to keep them all to himself forever. The moment they were properly dry, he took her right hand up to his mouth, his lips against her palm. She quivered against him, feeling a thousand, passionate memories flood back to her.

'I've missed you,' he told her, his voice weighed down with raw, unbridled emotion 'Fuck, I've missed you so much.'

He moved them away from the sink, and took her to the couch. He sat down and pulled her down with him so that they were facing each other, their legs entwined, their faces inches apart. He took her hands in his and placed them on his chest.

'Hey,' he said, when he found her staring determinedly at her fingers. 'Look at me.'

She did. He moved in to hold her face, his thumbs brushing the smooth skin beneath her eyes. He looked hard at her, trying to find the reason for her apprehension in her gaze. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he drew her closer, took a fist full of her hair and used it to turn her head to the side. He pressed his mouth to her cheek, and heard her suck in a jittery breath.

'I've been thinking about our first time a lot lately,' he informed her, his mouth still against her skin. 'You ever think about it?'

Michelle closed her eyes, annoyed at him for dredging up one of her sweetest, most treasured memories. She loved it, but she always looked on it with mild embarrassment. Tony knew that, and she watched him pull back and gaze at her. His eyes dropped to her chest, a small amount of it visible about her blouse, where he knew he'd find a self-conscious blush spreading. He gave her a small, satisfied grin.

'We were like teenagers,' Michelle muttered, her fingers beginning to move slightly against his chest. He closed his eyes, looking as though this small movement was almost too much for him to take just yet. His hand went to her waist, holding it tightly, bringing her closer to him.

'We were on the couch, just like this,' he murmured. 'We'd just come home from that restaurant.'

'Worst food ever,' Michelle whispered.

'Well, how was I to know that?'

'You should have done some research, instead of taking me out to whatever was closest.'

'Yeah, well,' Tony said. 'It wasn't exactly a well planned date.'

Michelle felt herself smiling at him. He took it in, his face hard, his eyes hot. Their first date had been the day after the nuclear bomb threat. They'd barely slept; they'd barely had time to process all that had happened, they'd barely even pulled themselves out of the clothes they'd worn. All they knew was that they wanted each other, wanted to see each other, wanted to talk and look at each other and let time pass in each other's company.

He'd rung her, barely eight hours after they'd left each others sight. She hadn't been shocked by it, in fact, she'd been waiting for it and they'd agreed to have dinner. He'd picked her up less than an hour later, they went to the place, they suffered through fairly poor food, and then he'd taken her back to her apartment.

They'd stood together at her door, for the first time in a state of completely uncertainty and awkwardness.

'You took forever to decide if you were going to kiss me or not,' Michelle reminded him. Her fingers continued their very gentle caress across his chest.

'Was kinda hoping you'd just do it again for me,' he said.

'It was your turn.'

'Yeah, so you told me.'

They both seemed to realise at the same moment that they were tangled up in each others arms, looking at each other, murmuring together over memories. Tony dragged her slightly closer still.

'Then you asked me in,' he said, his breath on her jaw, pushing a curl from her face and tucking it lovingly behind her ear. She closed her eyes at the gesture.

'You invited yourself in,' she corrected him.

She was mostly right. He had leaned it, he had taken her face in his hands and he'd kissed her. She'd been delighted, thrilled, hungry for him, and had pulled him closer. She'd opened her mouth, she'd given him his first taste of her tongue. It had done something to him, something serious. The delicious, wet, soft feel of each others mouths moving together had done something to her too. She'd thought about it. She'd lain awake in bed thinking about him, his mouth, his hands, his eyes. It had been a very fantastical sort of crush. She had not really thought she'd ever get to kiss him or get to know him, and he'd been the same. He'd always thought he'd stay away, that she would too, that they had nothing much in common except liking the look of each other. They had thought about each other, but they'd never thought it would actually happen. It had taken a nuclear bomb to make it a reality.

'The moment you bit my lip you invited me in,' he told her, his hands running up and down her sides.

There. There was the blush again, creeping along her chest.

'I did it on purpose,' she said haughtily. 'I thought it was sexy.'

'Uh-huh,' he hummed against her cheek, where his lips were resting once more. 'I've always maintained that you did it by accident, that you were just nervous. Why else would you have done it so hard?'

'It wasn't hard at all,' she said. 'You're making this up.'

'Nearly drew blood.'

'You loved it.'

'I did,' he said, suddenly looking serious. 'It hurt, but it was the hottest thing I'd ever had happen to me.'

'I still don't understand that, but alright.'

His eyes danced across her face. She was grinning. Almost. Not quite, but her eyes were ablaze and her perfect lips curled and he felt a surge of yearning sweep through him. He'd made her smile. He wanted to keep making her smile. He loved her.

'All bets were off when you bit me,' he breathed against her. 'It sent me insane. All I could do was get closer to you, to get more of you. I wanted you to make more mistakes like that, and I wanted you to make them with no one but me.'

'It wasn't a mistake! I knew exactly what I was doing.'

'Uh-huh. Anyway, you climbed into my lap. You straddled me, almost the second we were on your couch.'

'You pulled me on top of you. You practically hurled me across you.'

'Yeah, that might be true…but you were asking for it.'

'You had your arms around my waist, pinning me against you. You didn't even give me the time to take off my shoes.'

'Something like this, right?'

He lifted her from the couch and lowered her down so she was astride him, kneeling above him, looking down at his face.

'And you held my face,' he said. 'Your hands…one on my neck, the other on my cheek and you kissed me.'

'_You_ kissed me.'

He moved her closer so that their foreheads were touching gently.

'But then you started that little routine, remember? You started talking about what had happened between us during the nuke day.'

'Oh god. I knew you were going to bring this up. Do we have to talk about it?'

'Yes.'

'You know, I just…I just thought that what you wanted to do for me was sweet…and I wanted to tell you that. After I'd gone behind your back, after I'd lied about helping Jack, you were still going to take the fall for me with Chapelle…I just wanted you to know that I appreciated it. Not many people would've been so generous.'

'You thought it was the most romantic thing,' he teased, his fingers moving quickly against her ribcage, not quite a tickle, but close to it.

'I didn't say that,' Michelle told him.

'No, but the way you kissed me as you thanked me…I could tell. And you were blushing. You thought it was romantic.'

'It _was_ romantic,' she said.

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'That's why I did it.'

'No, it wasn't,' she said. 'You know it wasn't.'

'No?'

'No,' she said quietly. 'You did it because you loved me.'

His eyes left hers, trailing down her face, resting for a moment on her chest. The blush had vanished.

'I did,' he said. 'Even then.'

He looked back at her and she knew instantly that the light hearted mood was over. She knew he'd brought up their first night together to relax her. So they could tease each other and giggle over how young they'd been, how worried they were over what each other was thinking, worried that they should harness their passion, afraid to frighten each other off. They hadn't though. They hadn't held back at all.

'Come,' he said. He got to his feet, holding her up in his arms and carried her toward her bedroom. He closed the door behind them and placed her back on her feet. He sat on the edge of her bed, watching her.

'Take your blazer off,' he instructed. He was watching her with a predatory sort of look, one she'd seen a million times, only this time it was heightened. This time it was starving, deliriously hungry, almost scary.

She swallowed.

'Why don't you?' she asked.

He shook his head.

'You're going to do it.'

She chewed her top lip for a moment before her unsteady hands went to the button just below her breasts. She shrugged the blazer off her shoulders.

'Slowly,' he told her.

She glared at him. He stared comfortably back.

She was left in her blouse, skirt and stockings, and though she knew he expected her to remove them as well, her hands went up to her ears first. She fumbled to remove her earrings, first the left, then the right, and she placed them on her chest of drawers.

'You know,' Tony mused softly as her fingers went to the buttons down her blouse. His eyes did not leave her hands for a moment. 'That night, on your couch with you after that awful food…if someone had told me then that one day you'd give me a son…'

Michelle's fingers left her blouse. It was undone, hanging from her shoulders, her bra and stomach exposed.

Tony shook his head, looking overcome.

'If someone had told me we would have Mason, that we would have to get married twice, that I'd almost lose you so many times…or that I'd spend six years living with the belief that they'd killed you and burned your body into ash….'

Michelle watched his face closely. She took a few steps forward, standing in front of him, her hands going to his shoulders. He reached up to touch her forearm, almost to reaffirm that she was actually there.

'I mean…we were just messing around on your couch. We were just trying not to fuck things up with each other before we even got a chance to figure each other out. We were just trying to get close to each other. Nothing more than that. The idea of marrying you, the thought of losing you, the concept of having a child with you did not come into my mind once…all I could think about was your mouth against mine, all I could think about was getting you out of your clothes so I could see you for the first time.'

'It was our first date,' Michelle murmured. 'How were we possibly meant to know what was going to happen? Why would we have thought about any of that, or tried to predict it?'

'I don't know,' Tony said, his hand coming up to rest against the pale skin of her stomach. He found very faint stretch marks there, left over from her pregnancy. He smiled crookedly at them, and leaned forward to touch his mouth to them. He felt her fingers tighten in his hair.

As his mouth assaulted her abdomen, his hands went up to push the blouse from her shoulders. He dragged it from her arms and tossed it aside. He tugged her closer to him, his mouth moving up to greet her cleavage, his tongue coming up to trail a moist line up over the swell of her right breast. She gasped at the sensation, wrapped her arms around him tightly as she felt his fingers creep up her back, going to the clasp holding the bra secure. He undid it and pushed it away and suddenly she was bare in his arms. He looked her over, but only for a split second before he drew a nipple into his mouth, biting at it, dabbing his tongue across it to soothe it from the slight sting of his teeth. Her other breast was cupped roughly in his hand, his thumb flicking firmly over the peak. His breath was boiling against her skin.

'Tony,' she said breathlessly. She felt desire pool between her legs, felt currents of liquid warmth rush through her, felt her chest rise and fall, her breaths growing in rapidity. 'Tony, please…'

'Be patient!' he ordered her harshly, pushing her hands away from him. He seemed to be ordering himself too. He spun her around suddenly and unzipped her skirt. He made her step out of it and then turned her back to him.

'I want this to last,' he rasped against her bare flesh. He stood up suddenly and threw off his shirt. His hands flew to his belt buckle, but he stopped when he felt Michelle's fingers against his skin.

'Wait,' she urged him quietly. She stepped closer, as close as she could get, her head bowed, her eyes and hands on his chest, her fingers combing lightly through the hair there.

He knew he was scarred, just as she was, but she seemed to be expecting this. Her fingers trailed over the marks that had not been there the last time they'd made love. He groaned loudly when her lips fell to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands splayed across her back, holding her firm to him, hoping she wouldn't move her lips from him yet. At his response, she poked her tongue out from between her teeth and flicked it against him.

'Michelle,' he said warningly. He clutched her to him, so small in his arms.

'What?' she asked, her voice heavy with desire.

'Stop that.'

'No,' she said, and returned her tongue to cast a long, lengthy trail across him. Her hands ran down his stomach, her fingernails scratching against him lightly, and went to his belt buckle. In an instant it was gone, followed by his jeans. He stepped out of them and kicked them to join her skirt on the floor.

'Here,' he said, bringing her down to sit beside him. He left his place on the bed, knelt before her and removed her stockings. His hands ran down her legs and he lifted her right foot to his mouth. He placed a kiss in her bare arch and felt her toes curl against him. Her body was throbbing for him, begging for all of him.

He took her under the arms, much the way she always did to Mason, and lifted her to lie back on the bed, so her head was resting on the pillow. He rid himself of his boxers, removed her underwear so slowly she wasn't sure if it was pleasurable or painful, and then came up to lie beside her, slipping his arm beneath her so that her head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

'You know,' she said, reveling in the feel of his fingers dancing across her jaw. 'We haven't even kissed yet.'

'We kissed that night, after you told me about Mason's birth,' he said. 'I've been thinking about it all these months.'

'I know…but we haven't kissed properly. Not really.'

Suddenly his face was incredibly close to hers. They were taking the breath from each others mouths. She drew him in, their noses touching. Lightly, his lips reached hers and teased them apart. She moaned, struggling against herself so that she wouldn't pull him closer. He nibbled on her top lip, melded against her, finally fishing out her tongue and re-introducing his to it. Then, almost without thinking, Michelle bit down lightly on his bottom lip.

She almost didn't understand what happened next, almost couldn't fathom it. It happened so quickly. Tony was suddenly on top of her, his hands roaming wildly, his teeth biting down into her neck, raking brutally across her collarbone, his erection rock hard and warm against her leg. She reached down and touched him, held him firm, brushed her thumb against him and he gasped into her shoulder.

He swatted her hand and gave himself a couple of rough strokes before looking at her, his eyes searching her face. She allowed him to nudge her legs apart, felt him settle his weight against her, felt the tip of him nuzzle her entrance. He fingers reached down and delved within her, as though seeking out the measure of her arousal and then, with a force so jarring and so unexpected it was painful, he thrust inside her, sliding home with a sting and making no apologies for it. She gasped into his mouth, a sob of combined passion and hurt springing from her lips, and he wrenched her hand away from his face and held it against the pillow, his fingers entwined with hers as he slammed against her. The feel of him, hard, thick and heavy inside her, made her feel full for the first time in six years.

They didn't kiss. They didn't close their eyes. Their faces were so close together they could see nothing but each other and she joined him in his alarmingly severe rhythm. He was breathing out in grunts, short, sharp furious sounds that came out against her mouth and she was moaning, breathless, longing whispers into his face.

'More,' she heard herself request. 'Harder…more…please.'

He made an aggressive sound of abandon into her neck and let loose, his movements frantic, rough, mean against her. Each upstroke had more power behind it then the last and he knew he was hurting her. Each time she was impaled to the hilt her face flinched slightly, but only slightly, because she never wanted him to know there was anything more than pleasure at work inside her.

'Baby,' he gritted out. He watched a bead of sweat mingle with a curl by her ear. 'Baby, we gotta slow down.'

'No,' she said frantically. Her voice betrayed a hint of panic, her nails digging into the muscles in his back. 'No…please.'

He nodded and drew her legs up, changing their angle and watching her eyes roll back in her head. It drove her wild. He knew she loved it, knew his altered approach increased the weight of him inside her, knew he was crashing against her in a way that could, if he kept it up, send her spiraling out of control. He cupped her thigh gently, wanting to hold her in some way that was loving, feeling a little guilty about his current treatment of her body, but she grasped at his back, egging him on, and all he could do was plant clumsy kissed upon any part of her he could reach, knowing that she'd be very sore soon after this, but also knowing that he'd take care of her when she was.

'Oh god,' she moaned urgently. 'Keep going. Come on…I'm so close.'

'I know,' he said, and he did know. He knew exactly how long it took to get her to reach her peak, exactly how to get her there, the exact shade of the pink that spread across her neck just before she came.

All it took was a fractional increase in their already dire, violent pounding to elicit a heavenly shout from her lips. He felt her tighten around him, felt her legs and arms surround him, heard his name uttered pleadingly against his throat again and again as she came back down to him. This was enough to hurl him into completion alongside her, and he threw his head down against her shoulder and let out an unrestrained roar of pleasure as he furiously spilled himself deep inside her.

He collapsed against her completely, feeling her perspiration mix with his, feeling himself slowly grow limp within her. He ran his hands down her sides, kissed along the top of her breasts, told her, again and again, how he loved her, how he missed her, how he had no life when he'd thought she been dead and how she'd given him everything just because she was still on this earth.

Michelle lay very still, feeling his weight overwhelm her. She didn't mind it…in fact, she used to like this moment almost more than anything else. She was trapped beneath him, protected, given over to him. It felt wonderful to her.

Tony was making lazy movements against her. She thought perhaps he'd become emotional, just as she was, but he was trying to hide it from her.

'Mine,' he was saying softly. His hands trailed up her neck. 'You're mine.'

His fingers brushed across her mouth and trailed the outline of her lips and she went to smile…before a thought hit her. A terrible thought. A thought she couldn't push away.

He'd suffocated an FBI agent. She knew that. He hadn't shot him, or conspired against him, or had him blown up…he'd suffocated him. He'd looked into his eyes, just as he was looking into hers, and he'd covered his mouth and let him struggle for air until he died. He would have used the same hand against that man's mouth that he was using against hers now. The same hand that was so tenderly tracing her lips now had once refused air from the lips of an innocent agent. A man who had trusted him. A man who had dedicated his life to protecting the citizens of their country. That man had been suffocated by her husband in her name. He'd been one of the casualties of her husband's need to avenge her. The hand that had stolen the life from that man was resting against her chin right now, holding her close, adoring her mouth…and she suddenly felt sick.

She rolled out from under him.

'Hey,' he said, startled. 'Come here.'

He looked hurt. He looked confused. His arms reached for her, needing to draw her back in to him.

'No,' she said, getting up and finding her robe. She pulled it around her. 'No. You need to leave. You…you need to get out.'

She moved toward her bathroom and locked herself in.

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are, of course, opium, but no pressure<em>


	22. Chapter 22

Michelle could hear him moving beyond the door, though he hadn't said anything yet. He hadn't even ordered her to come out. She splashed her face in cold water, dabbed it away with a towel and tightened the robe around her waist. She looked at herself in the mirror. Red marks lined her collarbone where from Tony had used his teeth, her lips were pink and her eyes bright. She gave a resigned sigh. She couldn't hide from him in here, especially not when she could make such an educated guess as to how he was handling the final moments of their reunion. To remain concealed, away from him, would surely only serve to make matters worse. She opened the door.

He had put his jeans on, though his chest was bare. He was leaning against her drawers, waiting for her.

'What was that?' he asked, looking at the floor as she emerged. 'What the hell was that?'

Michelle fumbled with her hair, finally tying it up and securing loose curls into place.

'You should leave,' she said without looking at him. She went around the room, retrieving her work clothes from the floor. 'You can't sleep here.'

'I will if that's what I want,' he said. 'I own this apartment.'

Michelle straightened up, her suit scrunched in her arms, her eyes wide.

'What did you say?'

He shrugged, looking furiously at her.

'I own this apartment.'

'No,' she said instantly. 'You don't. I never asked you to pay it off.'

'Doesn't matter.'

'You said it was mine. You said you paid it off for me.'

'No, I paid it off so my son has somewhere to live,' he said meanly. 'You weren't a factor in that decision.'

Michelle narrowed her eyes. He watched her, his jaw tight.

'You're just being unkind,' she said after a while. She went to hang her blazer up in the wardrobe. 'I know you paid it off for me. Yes, of course you did it for Mason, but you also did it for me.'

Tony crossed his arms. He wasn't looking quite so hurt anymore, and appraised her with a searching sort of look.

'What happened before?' he asked. 'Everything was perfect. Everything was…'

'Back to normal?'

'More or less,' he conceded, looking somewhat defenseless. 'What happened?'

'It's…I think it's going to be impossible for me to be with you and not think of what you've done. Being with you…enjoying being near you…I can't have that without feeling guilty. Without feeling as though there are people in Washington – people all over the place – left without their own loved ones just so we can be together.'

'You have to get past it. You have to forget about it.'

'I'm trying! I just…I'm so angry at you for what you've done. I hate you for how you make me feel. Why couldn't you have just let it go? Why couldn't you have just dealt with it like a normal person and moved on?'

'I couldn't,' he said simply, as though this answer was sufficient.

'But if you had this would all be different! That's what I keep thinking! If you'd just tried to accept it we would have found each other again and we wouldn't have any of these problems! Things _would_ be perfect, and they'd stay perfect!'

'What I did is regrettable,' he said quietly. 'But I know I'd do it all again if something happened to you.'

Michelle stared at him, her mouth open slightly.

'Have you learned nothing at all?' she asked desperately. 'Aren't you listening to me?'

'I not proud of it, but it_ is_ true.'

Michelle suddenly felt livid at him.

'What, I am meant to feel flattered by that? Is that meant to make me feel warm and fuzzy? Is that your idea of saying something romantic? Putting my life above a population is inexcusable!'

'Yeah,' Tony said. 'I do know that. You've made that pretty clear in the past.'

'What are you talking about?'

Tony stood up straight, looking at her darkly, one hand slipping into his pocket.

'You never said it, but I know the Saunders thing didn't thrill you.'

'Of course it didn't thrill me. You went to prison because of it!'

'I'm not talking about that. You never did look at me quite the same way again after I put your life above everyone else's. You thought it was weak. You were disappointed in me.'

'I was not!' Michelle said immediately. 'I was devastated, I was distraught, I wished I had been able to find a way to avoid the whole thing but I never felt anything for you except love. I felt lucky…so lucky that you loved me like that, enough to risk everything. I just…I felt guilty for such a long time, guilty for all the things you were going through because of me and my guilt might've changed things…but I always loved you.'

'But then how was that any different to this?'

'Because no one actually got hurt! Because you were backed into a corner! You didn't get time to think about it! You had to make a fast decision – none of it was planned! Also because I wasn't dead then! When Saunders kidnapped me, you knew I was still alive and you knew you could get me back. But in Washington…I'd been dead for years. At least, that's what you believed. There was nothing to gain from what you did. That's why I can't let it go. That why I can't be around you like before…'

She went to the chest of drawers beside him and stashed her bra away. She rammed the draw shut and went to walk away, but he grabbed her arm.

'Hey,' he said, drawing her close. She allowed herself to be tugged toward him, her eyes gazing steadfastly at the floor. Her hand went out to his chest to stop herself from being pulled any closer.

'I don't know what to do to make it better for you,' he explained honestly. His arms were around her, still trying to draw her in.

'I don't know either,' she admitted. She felt his thumbs brush comfortingly against her shoulders. She felt his mouth on her forehead for a moment, a long, sad kiss. He let out a soft breath against her skin, one hand going up to soothe back her hair.

'Before was…' he began. He trailed off, sounding lost for words. 'Michelle,' he said finally, 'I…I've waited so long to have you back.'

Instead of feeling her resolve weaken, she felt annoyed. She couldn't help but imagine how their reunion would have been if he hadn't done so much damage to so many people. How sweet it would have been to discover they both still lived on, and could be together one more. He'd ruined that.

'You'd better go,' she said, moving away.

'I want to stay,' he informed her.

'I don't want you to! Understand? I'm angry and confused and right now I just want you to leave.'

Tony suddenly looked menacing.

'What, so it's okay for me to fuck you as long as I leave the moment we're done?'

'Tony –'

'That's never how it's been…but its okay now? We're allowed to enjoy each other until you get an onslaught of guilt, and then I have to go?'

'I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm tired.'

'Let me stay.'

'No.'

'Michelle…I want to be here tonight. I want to be with you…please, sweetheart.'

They watched each other from opposite sides of the room, Tony's face beseeching, hers reluctant. When she said nothing, he snatched his shirt from the floor and threw it on.

'Fine,' he said, his voice enraged. 'Fine. I'll leave.'

He slammed the door with a bang on the way out, hard enough to rattle the furniture in Michelle's room.

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	23. Chapter 23

The next night Michelle heard Tony enter the apartment whilst she was bathing Mason. A part of her felt relieved, but a bigger part of her felt keenly aggravated. So it was back to this, was it? He couldn't just give her space? He couldn't give her time to sort her feelings out? He insisted on crowding her, insisted on making himself a very large presence in Mason's life, with no regard to her wishes at all.

'Yay!' Mason said, hearing movement in the kitchen. 'Tony's here. Can I get out now?'

'Hold on,' Michelle said, rinsing shampoo from his dark hair.

'No, now!'

'Mason, just stay still,' she said, trying to hold him firm and managing to get water all down her front in the process. Mason laughed at her as she brushed droplets from her face.

'Hey, Mase,' said a voice from the corridor.

Tony was leaning against the door, watching them together. Michelle hadn't heard him come up the corridor.

'Hi Tony!' Mason said with a grin, his little red boat in hand. 'What's for dinner?'

'Burgers,' Tony said. 'Special ones. I think you'll like them.'

'Yum. Can I get out now?'

'Yes,' Tony said, before Michelle could argue. He came forward, grabbed a towel and hoisted Mason from the water. He wrapped him up in it and patted him down. He had yet to even glance at Michelle, who was looking unruly and generally damp, her soaked sleeves rolled up to her elbows. When Mason was dry, Tony took him into his bedroom to get into his pajamas. Michelle was left to drain the bath, attempt to make herself presentable and head toward the kitchen.

She began to set the table, and Mason reappeared with Tony, who started preparations for their meal. They didn't say anything to each other, and, just as Michelle had hoped, Mason did enough talking for all three of them, telling Tony all about his day and practically hanging off his arm, his eyes gleaming with love for his father.

At one point, Michelle was just slipping past Tony to grab a bowl when he took her hand. She'd not been expecting it all and looked at him sharply. He pressed something into her palm and then filled a glass of water. It was one of the vitamins he'd bought for her several months ago.

Michelle was just angry enough to move her hand over the sink and tip the little pill down the drain. Mason's exclusive affection for his father was severely annoying her, not to mention the fact that she was still very sore from the activities she'd taken part in the previous night. These things, not to mention their last argument, made her feel exceptionally resentful toward him.

Tony watched the vitamin as it washed away. He glared at her for a moment.

'Mason, go see what's on TV.'

'Uh…' Mason said, stopping the small circles he was running around his father. 'I'm not really allowed to watch TV before dinner.'

'You're allowed tonight, alright?'

'Uh….' Mason looked to Michelle. She didn't tell him one way or the other. 'Um…okay.'

He went off to settle himself by the coffee table and flicked on the cartoon channel. Meanwhile, Tony fished another vitamin from the bottle and placed it alongside the glass next to Michelle.

'Take it.'

'Please don't tell me what to do.'

'Take it.'

'No.'

'I gave these to you months ago, and you haven't touched them.'

'So?'

'So, this is about your health. These things will help. I can't understand why you won't take them.'

'Because I decide how to approach my condition, not you.'

'This is more important than your pride, or mine, or our problems. So just take the fucking pill.'

He took her hand, uncurled her fingers and placed the pill against her palm. He forced the glass of water on her. Just to get him off her back, she took it.

'Good,' he said, stepping back. 'Thank you.'

'I didn't do it for you.'

'I couldn't care less who you did it for, so long as you did it.'

Michelle was already ignoring him once more, moving about the kitchen. She could feel him watching her.

'Had a bad day?' he asked, his voice taunting, and not in a good way.

Michelle dumped a few glasses on the table.

'Work was fine,' she told him shortly.

'I'm staying here tonight,' he said.

'No, you aren't.'

'I'm not sleeping somewhere without you. You're my wife!'

'I am not,' she said. 'How many times do I have to explain this to you? You're a fugitive and I don't exist anymore. We are absolutely not married and there is nothing tying us together.'

'Nothing except the last decade of our lives and the five year old in the next room.'

'I don't want you here, alright?'

'You know, _you_ called me back. Remember? I wasn't going to interfere, or even try to see you. Then you sent me that message. _You_ called me back. So, I'm here…and all you're doing is digging our problems up. All you want is to make me pay, to make me feel guilty.'

'You deserve it! You deserve to feel as guilty as I do!'

Tony cocked his head to the side, taking her in. She looked as though she was holding back tears.

'Listen,' he said. 'I can't make you give me what I want. So that's fine, I won't try and take it. In the future, I'm here for Mason and that's it. When I come for dinner, it's to be with my son. I won't impose on you. I won't even look at you. You want me to leave you alone, so I will. But I can't be without Mason, so you'll just have to find a way to deal with that.'

Michelle stared at him, suddenly feeling hurt, before realising how ridiculous that was. At the moment, everything about Tony was getting to her, particularly his growing relationship with Mason. The fact that he could enrage her one moment and then make her feel lonely and depressed the next was enough to make her stride into the living room, snatch the remote from Mason and switch the TV off.

'I've told you!' she barked at him. 'No television before dinner!' The high pitched voices of the characters had been exacerbating her headache. She threw the remote on the couch and stalked away. Mason watched her go, his mouth open slightly, his eyebrows knitted together. He wasn't accustomed to being snapped at and subsequently brushed aside by his mother quite like that.

Back in the kitchen, Michelle rubbed aggressively at her forehead.

'That's fine,' she said to Tony, her voice clipped. 'Come here just for him. I'd prefer it that way.'

Tony stopped what he was doing and came toward her.

'Are you alright?' he asked, his voice concerned. He hadn't expected her to agree so easily, or to yell so insensitively at Mason.

'Fine,' she told him sharply. 'Just a headache.'

He nodded.

'Are you in any pain?'

'Pain?'

'From last night. I know I wasn't very…gentle.'

'It's fine. Look, I'm … I'm going to bed.'

'What? You haven't even had dinner.'

'Yeah, I don't feel like it.'

'Michelle…it's seven thirty.'

'I'm tired. Can you…can you just put Mason in bed before you go?'

'Well, yeah…' Tony said. He was barely able to get the words out before Michelle had disappeared up the corridor and closed herself inside her room.

_Cheers for the reviews, guys – you all make me so happy x_


	24. Chapter 24

'I'm six.'

Tony's gaze swiveled away from Michelle's door to find Mason standing in the kitchen.

'Yeah, you are…'

Mason shrugged.

'You said five-year-old before. But I'm six.'

Tony frowned at him.

'Were you listening to us?'

Mason shrugged again.

'Kinda. Then she turned the TV off so I came closer to hear better…'

'Mum,' Tony corrected. 'Mum turned the TV off. Not _she_.'

''Kay,' was the answer. 'Is dinner ready?'

'Soon. Look, it's rude to listen to other peoples conversations. When Mum and I are talking you're not allowed to listen, alright?'

'You always just fight anyway,' Mason said. 'I'd have to cover my ears not to hear.'

Tony stared at him for a long moment.

'Well…do that then,' he instructed, and turned back to the stovetop. He went about assembling their meals, and felt his son watching him from his chair at the table.

'Where's mummy anyway?'

'Gone to bed.'

'Why?'

'She's …she's not feeling well.'

'What's wrong with her?'

'Not sure.'

'She never gets sick.'

'Yeah, she's just…she's just tired tonight.'

Tony wondered if Mason would buy it. Of course, Michelle wasn't sick at all. In fact, Tony doubted she was tired either. He just couldn't explain that Michelle had gone to her room purely because she didn't want to be in the same room as him.

'There's medicine up there.'

He pointed to the cupboard high above the fridge.

'When I feel sick mum gives me some in this little cup thing. She makes me have a bath as well and rubs this gross stuff on my chest, and makes me all warm.'

Tony turned back to the table, two plates in hand. He sat down beside Mason.

'Does she?'

'Yep. Maybe you should do that stuff.'

'Maybe later.'

'I've been to the hospital before when I was sick.'

'Why? What for?'

Mason chewed heavily and swallowed with a gulp.

'Dunno. My head was hot.'

'How old were you?'

Mason frowned at his plate.

'Can't remember. But they stuck stuff in me and made me breathe normally.'

'Was mum there?'

'Yeah,' Mason said, as though this was a stupid question. 'She was being all weird and when they made us wait she got mad at them. She looked like she was going to cry.'

'Do you remember what was wrong with you?'

He shook his head.

'Just couldn't breathe.'

'Like pneumonia?'

'Uh…I don't know. But I was better soon.'

'I'm glad.'

'That was before we knew you,' Mason explained.

'Yeah.'

'Well,' he amended. 'Before I knew you. Mum already knew you.'

'Yeah, she did.'

They ate in silence together for several minutes.

'Can I see the photos?'

'Huh?'

'The photos in your pocket. Can I see?'

'You didn't say please.'

'Please.'

'You know, you have appalling manners.'

'What does appalling mean?'

'It mean's your manners are really bad. Which reminds me, we need to have a talk.'

Mason eyed him warily.

'Talk about what?'

'Annika's broken nose at school.'

'Oh.' His face fell dramatically. 'That was ages ago.'

'Yeah, still. I want to talk about it.'

Mason gave a sulky sigh.

'She started it.'

'Uh-huh. So you hit her?'

'Yeah.'

'In the face?'

'Yeah.'

'With a tennis racket?'

'Yes.'

'Do you know how hard tennis rackets are?'

Mason jerked his shoulders.

'Pretty hard.'

'Do you think you should have hit her?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because I got in trouble.'

'But why do you think you got in trouble?'

'Because I hit her.'

'But why do you think that's wrong?'

'Because…it hurt her?'

'Yes, because it hurt her. She wasn't hurting you.'

'She was annoying me.'

'Sometimes that happens. Sometimes people upset you, or annoy you, and you want to hit them but you can't. Especially not girls.'

'Why not?'

'Because…you just don't.'

'But why?'

'Because girls…' Tony sighed and scratched his cheek. 'Look, Mase. Girls…girls have smaller muscles than boys. They're not as strong. Annika could have hit you back, but she wouldn't have been able to do it as hard as you did.'

'So?'

'So, it's not fair. You're bigger than her.'

'If a girl's bigger than me can I hit her?'

'No! You're just not allowed to hit a girl. Ever.'

'But if she's annoying me –'

'No! Never. If you do, I…I'll hit _you_.'

Mason stared at him. Tony stared back. He wasn't entirely certain he should have said that. Then again, no son of his was going to go through life hitting women. If scaring him out of the prospect worked, then so be it.

'You're not allowed to hit me,' Mason said finally, his face worried. 'Mummy won't let you.'

'What if she's not here?'

Mason looked frightened, and Tony found himself feeling guilty.

'I'm never going to,' Tony promised, 'as long as you never hit Annika again, or any of the other girls.'

Mason nodded and kept his eyes down for a long time, eating slowly.

'Hey,' Tony said, touching his arm. 'We still pals?'

He gave a small, somewhat unconvincing nod.

'Still want to see those photos?'

He shook his head, unable to look his father in the eye just yet.

'Why do you get mad at mum?' This was asked after dinner was finished, and Tony, still feeling bad, was scooping heaping amounts of strawberry ice cream into two bowls for them both.

'I'm….I'm not mad at her. I get frustrated sometimes because I want her to understand something and she doesn't want to.'

'Is she mad at you?'

'Yeah.'

'But what for? You said…didn't you say you were friends before I was born?'

'We were.'

'Because I'm friends with Jude but we don't yell. And neither does Theo. But you do.'

'We don't yell, we just…sometimes we just get mad at each other.'

'So then you're enemies.'

'Huh?'

'Well, at school, Sarah and Morgan are enemies. They have fights and they tell everyone they're enemies.'

'Your mother and I aren't enemies. You know, we actually used to be best friends.'

'So did Sarah and Morgan though,' Mason said reasonably. 'They used to hold hands and stuff. They had the same socks as well. Now they're enemies.'

'Right. Well…no, mum and I aren't enemies.'

Mason nodded and slurped down some of his ice cream. He seemed to be in a better mood now.

'How do you know her again?'

'Your mum? We…uh…we worked at the same place for a long time.'

'Like at her office?'

'Not the same one. But yeah, at an office.'

'That's why you're friends?'

'Yeah. We weren't friends right away though. We didn't even really like each other.'

'Like me and Annika?' Mason asked with a grin. 'Cos I really hate her.'

'Kinda…but I didn't hate your mum. I just…I didn't want to talk to her.'

'But why not?'

'I didn't want to be friends with her and she thought I was rude and arrogant, so she didn't want to be my friend either.'

'What's arrogant?' 

'Uh…it's when someone always thinks they're right. When they think they know everything.'

'But you _do_ know everything.'

Tony raised an eyebrow, feeling his heart swell with love for his son. He remembered once thinking the same thing of his own father.

'Well…I know lots of things. But so does your mum. And she didn't like me at all. We didn't even want to sit next to each other, or be in the same room really.'

'That sounds _just_ like me and Annika.'

'But it's a bit different when you're a grown up. Especially when you're at work. You have to find a way to work together. You have to find a way to get along.'

'Urgh. I'm never going to go to work with Annika then.'

Tony laughed at him.

'We'll make sure you don't have to.'

'Good. Did you really hate mum?'

'No, I told you: I never hated her. She hated me though, but I ignored her, and when I didn't I was mean to her, so she was well within her rights to. I didn't like her because…well, for lots of reasons. I thought she was nice and I thought she was smart. But I just didn't want to become friends.'

'Did she annoy you?'

'A little, yeah.'

'What did she do?'

'Well…nothing.'

'I don't get it.'

Tony sighed. He felt reluctant to explain his past with Michelle to him for fear that he would put two and two together and realize Tony was his father.

'I don't know,' he said gruffly, thinking hard about how to explain his reasons for ignoring Michelle. 'I guess…I guess I thought she was too pretty or something. It annoyed me.'

'Yuck.'

Again, Tony laughed at him. He reached out and pulled Mason off the chair and onto his lap. He took out his wallet and showed him the photo of Michelle in the floaty pink dress.

'You said it yourself,' Tony teased him, tickling him slightly. Mason giggled and tried to squirm away. 'You said she was pretty.'

'She's pretty here,' Mason yelped, shooting the photo a quick look. 'But not anymore. She's just mum now.'

Tony smiled, adoring the feeling of his little son settled so happily in his embrace.

'She's still pretty. Back then, it annoyed me. And she was nice. That annoyed me too. Then, we had to work together, just me and her. We had to spend lots of time together, talking. It wasn't fun at first. In fact, we were pretty rude to each other. But then we were a bit nicer. And then we were nice to each other all the time.'

'And she didn't hate you anymore?'

'No, we became friends. No very good friends though…we were afraid of being good friends.'

'Why?'

Tony shrugged, his son lounging in the crook of his arm, watching him closely.

'It's hard to explain. Then one day I think Michelle realised she would be happier if we were better friends, and she told me that.'

'Who's Michelle?'

Tony gazed down at him, realising his error with a small measure of distress.

'I meant mum,' he muttered. 'I meant mum. Anyway, we were good friends after that.'

'Natalie and Daniel are best friends in my class. It's weird. None of the other boys and girls are friends.'

'It's a bit different when you're a grown up.'

'Maybe they'll be enemies soon, like you and mum.'

'Mase, we're not enemies,' Tony said, his voice firm. 'I love your mother.'

Mason blinked. He frowned furiously at Tony.

'Gross,' he said, sitting up a little bit straighter. He started to climb out of Tony's arms. 'That's gross.'

'Yeah,' Tony said, feeling annoyed at himself for revealing all the things that he had. 'I just like her a lot. But I've done things that have made her angry, and that's why we fight sometimes.'

Mason went back to his ice cream, moving his chair away from Tony slightly.

'What?' he asked.

'Huh?'

'What did you do wrong?'

Tony clawed at his cheek for a moment.

'Nothing…I…I've made a mistake, that's all. Sometimes when you make mistakes, it's hard to get everything back to normal afterward.'

Tony massaged his eyes, suddenly feeling vile. He knew Mason was observing him.

'Tony,' Mason asked, putting down his spoon and stifling a yawn. 'Can I go to bed now?'

Tony looked up. He felt his loathing for himself intensify. It burned somewhere inside, and he found he couldn't push it away, not like he'd always been able to before. It was creeping to the forefront. He could feel it acutely. He wondered if it would recede, or if he'd have to live with this kind of disgust for the rest of his life. Mason gazed back at him, and for the first time Tony was able to see something of his wife in their son. Before, he'd only found his own features looking back at him when he'd surveyed the boy, but now…now he could see it in the shape of his eyes. Michelle's eyes.

Now, staring at them, he realised – not for the first time – just how truly beautiful they were.

'You want a story?'

Mason nodded vigorously.

'Okay. Let's go.'

_Reviews=opium_


	25. Chapter 25

Tony stood at the door to Michelle's study, watching her type away at her computer. She was angled away from him, and didn't know he was there.

He looked on, feeling simultaneously worried and slightly satisfied. A part of him felt she deserved to feel the way she did, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she was hurting, and not just because of him. Since he'd told her that he was no longer there to see her, but only to spend time with Mason, he'd watched her withdraw spectacularly from their son.

Mason, who loved Tony's company and greeted him keenly with a cuddle when he came to pick him up from school every day, was less dependent on Michelle than ever before. Tony brought him home, Tony bathed him and Tony made him dinner. Mason would talk happily to him over their meal, and ask to be put to bed, but not before several stories were told and jokes were swapped. So air-tight was the bond between father and son that Mason all but forgot his mother existed.

Tony knew this was as much Michelle's fault as anyone else's. She seemed so angered by Tony, and so hurt by Mason's love for him, that she barely spoke to Mason at all. If he asked her something, she'd reply. If he requested something, she'd give it to him. But she no longer made an effort to make him smile, or reconnect with him, or hold him, or remind him of all the reasons why he loved her. She allowed, with no resistance at all, for Tony to become his primary caregiver and slowly pulled away from them both. She let their relationship run riot, watched Mason's hero worship of his father blossom and expand, and allowed herself to be overlooked by them both.

Except Tony hadn't overlooked her. Not at all. Her behaviour had been going on for a couple of weeks and though it hadn't been very obvious in its infancy, it was now fast becoming glaringly conspicuous. He had, at first, felt furious at her. Mason was missing her, but she was being unresponsive. It was alright to direct her fury and disappointment at Tony, but to now project it toward their son in the form of neglect was unacceptable, and the more she did it the more confused and hurt Mason became. This then prompted him to creep ever closer to Tony, who offered him attention and gentle guidance and discipline, and the whole thing was becoming a depressing cycle. Michelle felt forgotten, so she pushed him away, which in turn drove him closer to his father, which made her feel even more forgotten. On and on it went.

Tony didn't know what to do for either of them. He could drive Mason back to Michelle, as he had once before, but this situation seemed beyond anything quite like that. He could slowly push Mason away, but the fact of the matter was that he loved Mason. Mason was happy with him. He was learning things, asking questions and becoming more curious about the world. He was doing well at school and was demonstrating good manners and an awareness of other people. He was revelling in all the things Tony brought to his life as his father (not that he knew it) and Tony wasn't willing to take it from him. Not when he enjoyed it just as much. Not when he knew Mason might have nothing if both his parents pushed him away because of the other.

He knew Michelle was in pain. He'd barely spoken a word to her since their last argument and she hadn't even looked at him since. She rarely joined them for meals and when she did she ate in a state of quiet isolation. Mason didn't even really try to tell her things anymore, with eyes only for Tony, who always listened intently to his son. She ate alone.

Apart from all this, it seemed she was perfectly fine, something Tony found even more disconcerting. She still dressed well, still did her hair perfectly, still went to work and still chatted with her friends there. She came home in the evenings, quickly kissed Mason if he wasn't deep in discussion or mid game with Tony, and then took herself to her study, where she worked away on things she'd brought home until dinner. She would come out – or not – eat her meal and then return to her work. Tony would tuck Mason in bed, and then let himself out. She never remerged after dinner, not even to kiss her son goodnight.

Tony knew she was in agony. She had no history whatsoever of irrational behaviour, and so he knew she had to be feeling monstrously rejected and forsaken by Mason to warrant this kind of response. She loved him, more than Tony suspected he could even comprehend, and for him to ignore her for his father for days on end had to be eating at her. She'd spent the last six years dedicating her life to his survival, wellbeing and happiness, and now she felt as though her child no longer wanted her at all. Her pain was immense. Of course, this was all educated guesswork from Tony. He didn't know anything for sure. He hadn't even made eye contact with his wife for weeks.

A far less prominent part of him was still angry at her. Of course he was. She had asked him to return. She had embraced him, given him his son back, had made love with him, something his mind relived, over and over, when he was alone at night. She had said she would try to forgive him. He knew she had tried. He understood that, but in his opinion she hadn't tried hard enough. She'd had one hit of remorse and shame during their night together and had recoiled from him instantly. She'd given up on him the moment she'd been reminded of the mistakes he'd made. Had she really thought it was going to be easy? Had she thought she'd be able to get over it just by willing it to happen? It was going to take time. Tony had expected this. He had been ready to give her time. He didn't need all of her back. Not yet anyway. He was more than happy to take little bits of her, whatever he could get at a time as she slowly learned to forgive him, slowly learned to open herself up and let him back in. He had resigned himself to months, even years of slow progress. He wasn't impatient. He had no right to be. If Michelle was willing to forgive him, then he would wait for the rest of his life if he had to. He had nowhere else to be, and nothing to distract him.

He just hadn't expected her to quit before they'd even started.

He wasn't sleeping well. He wasn't happy. He loved his son, yes, but he needed Michelle. What life was there for him without her? It was torture to see her every day. It caused him pain, real and intense. It nearly drove him mad. He'd accepted she'd been killed. He taught himself to look upon that notion as truth. He had felt his life shatter, felt his being break apart and leave him. No soul, no desire, no happiness. Nothing to look forward. Only a past to replay inside his head. But here she was, this woman he valued more than his own life. The person he loved so much he didn't know who he had been before he'd met her. She was in the same apartment with him, and yet he'd never felt so without her before. It assuaged his distress slightly that he was able to provide for her, (though she didn't need it all that much), able to see that she was safe, that she was in no trouble, but he couldn't be with her and it was killing him. He just wanted to talk to her. In fact, he felt quite desperate to. They'd been able to talk for hours during their marriages. Able to sit on their couch, or at their table, or wrapped up in bed, and discuss things. They'd lightly teased each other, they'd chatted about each other's concerns and doubts, they'd made fun of people at work, they'd made plans, talked about their families, discussed ideas or made light of something they'd watched together on TV.

He missed that. She had been his best friend, his confidant, his counsellor, his companion. She always had a solution to the things on his mind, and if she didn't she would sit and absently caress his hands as she listened to him closely, fully prepared to spend the night talking until a solution was found. He missed laughing with her. He missed saying something about one of the bureaucrats at division just to make her laugh, or watching some terrible movie and making snide remarks about it just to rile her up. He missed making her go red with outlandish compliments, and he missed the faint pink blush on her cheeks when he said something small and sweet, something painfully sincere, something for only her to hear. He missed telling her he loved her. He missed it, all of it, so much, every day. He wanted it back. He was, quite seriously, desperate for it.

He appreciated that she'd kept her word. She hadn't tried to keep him from his son, she hadn't tried to bar him from his home, but they both knew it wasn't enough.

Now, he watched her, frowning slightly at the computer monitor. She hadn't joined them for dinner, hadn't even hugged her son once that evening. She'd retired to her study the moment she got home, and this was where he'd found her once he was satisfied Mason was fast asleep.

'What are you doing?'

Her head whipped around. She took him in for a moment, her face still in the height of concentration, and then turned back to the screen, as though he didn't faze her at all. Tony took a couple of steps inside.

'Michelle? What are you doing?'

'Is Mason in bed?' she asked him coldly, typing out a couple of lines. She didn't look at him.

'Yeah, he's asleep.'

These were their first words in weeks.

Slowly, Tony came up behind her, peering at the screen over her shoulder.

'Nicholas Landers,' he said, taking in the file Michelle had compiled solely on this person. 'Who is Nicholas Landers?'

'No one,' she said, minimizing the page. Once she had Tony caught himself looking at a corporate employment record on the screen, something Michelle had obviously hacked into, on the same person. She minimized it too. Tony looked at her.

'Want to tell me who this Landers is?'

'It's nothing,' she replied brusquely. 'Forget it.'

Tony scratched at his cheek, gazing at the back of her head, feeling annoyed. What was she hiding? He moved away from the computer to sit down on the narrow couch opposite it. Michelle glanced at him, annoyed to find him directly in her eye line. She was still in her work suit, her hair pinned into place, her makeup fading, but present. She sighed.

'Nicholas Landers was one of the people who had the most to gain from the Cyprus recording. He was one of the men who commissioned Peter Kingsley, one of the men who smuggled the nuke in and one of the men who hired Alex Hewitt – remember him?'

Tony nodded. 'I remember.'

'He wanted the States to go to war with the Middle East – it was all to do with oil, in which he was heavily invested. In fact, he lost nearly everything because we proved it to be falsified. He was one of the men who took me away after the car bomb. He's always believed his losses were entirely my fault. He'd tell anyone that he was torturing me for information, but really it was just for revenge. We cost him a lot.'

'So…why are you looking him up?'

She shrugged, her eyes flicking back to the screen.

'I've kept a close watch on all the men who were after me. Most of them are dead now, most have given up. Landers hasn't. He pokes around in my old CTU files every now and then. Goes digging in the FBI stuff. He still wants justice, still wants to get me. He sees it as a personal failure that I'm off living my life somewhere. It's like he can't move on until he kills me or something.'

Tony sat, listening to her speak so casually about something that sent cold, barbed spikes of terror through him. He felt unable to move as she relayed these things to him.

'Where is he?' he asked suddenly. 'Where does he live?'

Michelle rolled her eyes.

'Spare me the "I'll kill him" routine, alright? He's not going to find me. He's looking, but he's just as likely to think I'm living in Nairobi as he is Canada. He has no leads, no information, nothing to go on. He's been going around in circles for years, I've watched him. Trust me, he's no threat.'

Tony recognised the honesty in her voice. He knew she wasn't lying to placate him, but still, he didn't feel good about this. He silently vowed to do a little digging of his own, just to see who exactly wanted his wife located and harmed, no matter if they were actually going to or not.

Tony returned his gaze to her, to see her typing away again at the computer, looking less vigilant now, more relaxed in her movements. She seemed to have returned to some security work she'd brought home, and the topic of Landers was closed. She ignored Tony, despite the fact that they were directly opposite each other.

'You know, you didn't kiss Mason tonight,' Tony told her, his voice even. 'Or hug him.'

Michelle pressed on with her work. She acted as though there was no one else in the room.

'You think he doesn't notice that sort of thing, but he does.'

'That's news to me.'

'Michelle, you have to stop this.'

She brought her hands away from the keyboard and looked at him, her eyes suddenly dangerous.

'You don't want to do this,' she warned him icily. 'You don't want to start this argument with me. You understand nothing about what I'm feeling, or what he's feeling, so leave it.'

'Michelle…'

'I said leave it. Things are perfect for you right now. You have what you want. You've come through on all your promises. You said you were only here for him, and that's what's happening. He's all yours, so what could you possibly want to discuss?'

'He's not "all mine".'

'He is. You've got him all to yourself, wrapped around your little finger. You've got him thinking you're a superhero, you've got him eating out of the palm of your hand. Isn't that what you wanted? A bond with your son? Well you have it. You have all of it. I haven't interfered.'

'I _want_ you to interfere!'

She tilted her face, looking at him closely.

'But he doesn't,' she said, her voice softening ever so slightly. 'Mason doesn't. He just wants you too, all of you, exactly the way you want him. He wants you with him every second. He wants you to do all the things I used to do and he hates it when he's left with me. He hates it.'

'He doesn't. He loves you.'

She lifted her shoulders in a frail shrug.

'I used to feel it all the time. He and I…we loved each other so much, so intensely. We were all each other had…'

Tony felt shame unfurl in his stomach somewhere. Michelle wasn't even crying. She seemed too lost, too depressed, too lonely for that.

'But now…he barely looks at me if he can look at you instead. He won't talk to me if he can talk to you. And so that's just that. I'm not going to take him away from you, and I'm not going to take you away from him.'

'I want you to come back to us,' Tony said quietly. 'I don't understand why I can't be his father, and you his mother. Why does he only have to have one parent?'

'Because I can't be around you. And it's hard to be with him when he's not receptive to me. I…I can't take it.'

She went back to her work. Tony reclined slightly against the back of the couch, watching her. Not for the first time, he wanted to shake some sense into her. Instead, he watched her work for another half an hour, before silently leaving the apartment.

This went on for another week. Michelle became an island in herself, and Tony's relationship with Mason grew in leaps and bounds. Only this week, Tony continued his presence in Michelle's study once Mason was asleep. He came in, shared a quick glance with her, and then settled upon the couch to watch her work. She ignored him.

The next week, Tony took in work of his own. They sat there together of a night time, in the little study, lit up only by the hazy desk lamp. Michelle sat at the desk and Tony on the couch, working in silent unison until Tony packed his things together and left. He wasn't sure why he did it, or why he continued with it, but something about it felt right. Perhaps just occupying the same space, doing the same sort of tasks, made him feel connected to her.

Then, one night, after Mason had barely glanced at her despite the fact that she'd actually joined them for dinner, something happened. Tony had been worried about her. She looked pale, terribly dejected, not like herself at all. She'd gone to the study, closed herself in, and Tony had joined her sometime later. He had felt urgently worried about her, and had almost wanted to beat Mason for inadvertently causing his mother such tormenting pain. He didn't really look at her as he joined her, but sat on the couch with a single file in hand. It was background work, something he didn't have to read, but wanted to anyway.

He was flicking through the last pages when he realised she had left the desk. He was semi shocked to see her standing right in front of him. He was even more surprised when her small hand went out to take the file from him, and drop it carefully on the floor. There was something terrible in her eyes, something that felt quite alarming to Tony. She looked as though she was feeling nothing, as though her heart had taken such a beating between the re-introduction of her old husband into her new life and her son's blatant rejection of her that it simply ceased to exist. Tony had never seen such vacancy in her face before.

'Michelle…?'

In the next moment, she was sitting in his lap, straddling him. His arms went out, almost automatically, to trap her against him. His heart felt as though it was going into overdrive. It was beating a million times a second. He felt so stunned, so overwhelmed, by her physical presence. The weight of her against him, the smell of her, the touch of her hands to his shoulders was enough to make his brain melt in his skull. He felt her settle against him and watched her pull back slightly, looking anywhere but his eyes.

Her hands went to her blouse. He sucked in a hard breath when she pulled it over her head and let it fall onto the carpet. She released two well-placed hairpins and her curls went tumbling down around her shoulders. Tony's hands were against her thighs, holding her loving, stroking her skin through the fabric of her black skirt. He couldn't believe what was happening, his face a combination of shock, excitement and love.

His eyes raked across her body. She was wearing a black bra today. Nothing special, nothing particularly sexy, and yet he was so hard he was in pain. His hand trailed across her bare stomach. His palm curled against her waist, bringing her back against him.

Her hands went to his jaw. She guided his mouth to her chest, bringing him closer whether he wanted to or not, and he immediately placed hard, wet kisses against the tops of her breasts. He heard her moan softly, a needy, breathy sound. He applied more kisses, the taste of her skin almost dazzling him, and felt her finger tips graze against his stubble as he did. He released a low, quiet growl from inside his throat.

He looked up at her, his eyes searching desperately for hers, but she wouldn't look at him. It frankly freaked him out. He couldn't ever recall a time when eye contact hadn't factored into their love making. They had always been incredibly present with each other, hugely aware of the fact that this was a joint act, an expression of love, something they gave to each other, for one another. But now, her eyes, glazed and strangely empty, would not find his.

And then he knew what was going on. She'd been so cut down by Mason's behaviour, so worn out and saddened for so long, that she was acting on sheer impulse. She just wanted love. She just wanted to feel someone, to have someone pay her attention. Tony could understand. He couldn't fault her for it. The last few weeks had been grim for her. They'd been morbid, as bad as they could be. He was disappointed that this wasn't about them, disappointed that this wasn't a step in any direction for them, but he didn't ease her off him. He couldn't. He loved her too much, and if she needed to feel something, needed it badly enough even to go to him for it, then he wasn't going to turn her away. It wasn't right or perfect, but he didn't care. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her.

He realised that while he'd assembled and concluded his thoughts, Michelle had removed his shirt. Her hands, frantic in their movements, were hurrying to free him from his jeans. He watched her for a second, troubled. They hadn't even kissed yet, and she was pushing his clothes from him. He didn't have enough time to fully realise how wrong this felt before she had pulled him free from his boxers and held him in her hand. Tony felt himself lose control of his breathing, felt himself drag her even closer. He groaned into her throat, his eyes closing tightly, his arms like a vice around her, his hands splayed across her slender back. He could hear each desperate breath as it tore from her mouth, could feel each anxious, harried movement. Then, he realised she was scrambling against him. She had bunched her skirt around her hips, rid herself of her soaked-through underwear, and was positioning him so that she could lower herself down around his length. She let out an unrestrained whimper as his tip touched her wetness, and in the next moment he was slotted deep inside her and she was building a furious rhythm upon his lap, up and down, her eyes shut, her face turned away from him.

Disturbed though he was by her rejection of him, even mid sex, he made loving caresses against her skin, held her close, tried to place kisses against her despite the fact that she wouldn't hold still. Sweat was starting to gather at her temples and across her chest, and Tony felt himself flushing and sweating too, his teeth gritting together to stop anymore animalistic sounds escaping him. She was pounding out an angry, loveless pace, something that felt quite callous and dreadful, though, Tony realised gluttonously, he didn't dislike it enough to stop her. What he did dislike, however, was the fact that she was still wearing a bra. She was still in her skirt. Tony's jeans weren't even shoved down his legs, but still seated around him, in place and normal except for the fact that she'd unzipped him and released his throbbing erection. It wasn't right: their clothes still around them. It wasn't right in the slightest.

She was moaning almost violently now, as though she was suffering pain, and Tony found himself moving his hand away from where he'd been cupping and gently stroking her clammy neck to bury between them, his fingers searching out the place knew so well. He applied the right amount of pressure with his thumb, not too much, not too little, and began to rub against her sodden nub. It only took a couple of seconds before he felt her break apart in his arms. Her torso went rigid, her fingernails dug agonisingly into his shoulders, her face looked stunned, her toes curled and a faint, desperate yell left her lips. The next instant, she crumbled needily against him, riding out the last of her orgasm, and even then, Tony realised miserably, she still would not meet his eye.


	26. Chapter 26

**Apologies for the raging clusterfuck that was trying to win a battle between with the FF site and the ordering of these chapters. 24, 25 and 26 are good and settled now. Sorry for any confusion and please forgive the galactic technological ineptitude. As always, I'm feeling deeply indebted to anyone reading, and with every chapter we get a little closer to the core of this thing (this thing being the epic wonderment that is our beloved T&M and my sick need to give them the fate they deserve) and to the ending I've devised, but at the same time, it'll be depressing as hell to finish it and see it go. Anyway, cheers again!**

* * *

><p>Tony held Michelle tightly to his chest, feeling her pant raggedly, her breasts rising and falling against him. He knew she wasn't holding him in return. Her arms were draped over him, but she hadn't done it purposely.<p>

After a while he felt her stir slightly against him, felt her turn her face against his shoulder, as though confused. She had just had a harsh, jolting climax, and he had not. Nor was he making any attempt to. All he was doing was holding her fast against him, his face pressed up to the place between her neck and collarbone, breathing against her skin as though hoping to take some of her inside him alongside each gulp of air.

Michelle, now that she was without her need for him, was feeling mortified at her actions. She hadn't looked at Tony in weeks, and then she'd just initiated sex, rough, impersonal, selfish sex and she felt wildly embarrassed. To make matters worse, he was still hard inside her, but he acted as though it was over. This confused her slightly, and she felt obliged to continue. She wasn't quite sure what made her do it, but she began to move her hips again, feeling unable to leave him in the lurch, and, she admitted to herself, not quite wanting to either.

His hands suddenly dug into her hips, holding them still.

'Don't.'

She ceased her movements. The word had been angry and commanding, and she didn't dare look at him.

Tony loosened his grip on her, but only just. In a gentle, strangely fluid movement, he lifted them both from their mangled position and rearranged their bodies so that she was reclined along the length of the couch and he was nestled on top of her, his body still between her legs, resting up on his elbows to look at her, her hair spread out across the cushion beneath her head.

She looked confused, suspicious even, but didn't question it. Every part of their bodies were touching, his chest against her breasts, his legs entwined with hers, his face hovering only inches above her own.

He gazed at her, taking in her long eyelashes, her sweet little nose, her parted, rosy lips. He felt so worried about how she had just acted that he couldn't possibly let her continue once she'd found what she'd been looking for. He couldn't let her leave either. He knew she had done it out of need, out of a desperate desire for affection, and so he was going to deliver, whether she wanted tenderness or not. She'd started this, but he wanted to end it – his way. He was holding his wife, covering her body with his, needing to address her needs because he loved her and couldn't handle for her to be hurting. It ate him alive. She was his, and he'd be damned if he ignored his duty to care for her.

Her eyes were heavy, staring determinedly at his chest, or neck, somewhere below his eye line. He wanted her to look at him, but he knew he couldn't make it happen. Instead, he brought his hand to the side of her face, his fingers coasting very lightly against her cheek. She moved suddenly beneath him, trying to push him away from her so she could get up and leave him, but he refused to budge and just let her fight for a moment, assured she couldn't escape. He had her trapped under him - hell, he was still inside her - and there was nothing she could do to get away. She seemed to realise this at the same time Tony did, and, possibly in an attempt to salvage her pride, stopped struggling and laid still.

Tony shifted his weight gently, so that more of him was touching her. He lowered his face, the tip of his nose almost meeting hers, and his eyes, dark and weighed down with concern and longing, roamed her face. He exhaled, knowing she could feel his breath all over her skin. Then, very, very slowly, his hand went to her chin and held it lightly. He tilted her head, just a miniscule amount, up to his and he allowed his lips to reach hers. The kiss was soft, so soft he could barely feel it. Her lips didn't move, neither did his, but they were making feather light contact and that alone was enough.

Then, Tony parted his mouth. He very gently took her bottom lip between his and applied fractional pressure. He didn't draw it very far into his mouth, nor did he suck it or touch it with his tongue. He just held it in his lips, as though it was a little piece of candy he'd somehow won, something he wouldn't share with anyone.

He registered when she pulled away, moving just enough to take her bottom lip out from between his. She drew it into her own mouth and between her teeth, as though trying to keep it safe from him. Instead of fighting her for it, he titled her head again and placed a small kiss upon her cheek. Then one on the end of her nose, on her chin, on her jaw line, moving slowly, languorously, so that each kiss was wholly separate and distinct from the last.

Tony looked at her eyes to find them closed. He let out a soft, relieved sigh. He had been so scared by her actions that to now to feel her body relaxed beneath his, to see her face calm and beautiful, allowed him to breathe easily again.

He let his mouth brush against her temple, trying so hard to make her understand that he was there. That he loved her, that he had not forgotten her for a moment. He was trying to make her see, without words (because they never worked anyway) that she was still the centre of his life, intrinsically important to him, and he couldn't let her feel unloved for long without doing something about it. Their respective relationships with their son were important, but he wanted to bring to her attention to the fact that this all started with them. All the things pulling them apart existed only because they had once openly loved each other, because he couldn't stay away from her, couldn't do anything except honour the fact that she was the most important thing in his life. Nothing had changed since then, not for him at least.

He moved his other hand to her face, cupping her cheeks gently, brushing curls away from her ears and forehead, and he heard the smallest, quietest sigh leave her lips. His heart seemed to expand at this. He felt thrilled that he was doing something she enjoyed, delirious that he was making her feel something positive.

He dropped his head back to hers, and applied another delicate kiss to her closed lips. After a moment he became cognisant of the fact that she had kissed him back, just a little. He blinked down at her, and was delighted and surprised beyond all reason to find her warm, brown eyes gazing right back at him.

Suddenly, they were nipping at each other again and again, pulling away after each gentle graze of their mouths, tilting their heads to return to each other in another fleeting, simple, but incredibly affectionate nibble. They made hundreds of these little pecks, never really opening their mouths, never making it anything but warm and tender. At least, that was how it felt to Tony. He knew he could kiss her like this all night. He didn't want anything more, just the light pressure she was making against his lips with hers, just feeling the same things she was feeling, being in her embrace, feeling each inhale and exhale of breath. He just wanted to stay reclined against her, relaxed and warm, embracing and tasting her. It was more than he could ever hope for and made him feel complete in ways he hadn't since he'd woken up beside her for the last time six years ago. These mild kisses were entirely innocent, just little acts of awareness, just one another reaffirming that they were there together, with each other.

Tony was aware when her hands reached for his face as he slanted her head so he could make quick, grazing motions across her mouth with his. Her hands mirrored his own, cupping his jaw and his cheeks, holding them tenderly, and he allowed himself a small gasp of delight. One of his hands secured itself around hers, to ensure she didn't release his face anytime soon.

Michelle wasn't sure what had made her do it. She wasn't sure why she was joining Tony in this quaint, harmless little kissing session either. He'd just made her feel so good, so warm and significant and special after she'd heartlessly used him to make herself feel better, that she'd found herself responding against her wishes. And now they were both waist deep in the longest, most affectionate make out marathon they'd ever had.

She could still feel him inside her, semi hard, and though it was starting to become uncomfortable, she still felt horrible about what she'd done and how she'd acted. She raised her pelvis sightly, inviting him to finish what she'd started, asking him to try again with her. He searched her face for a moment, seeming hesitant, and then stopped her. He shook his head, telling her soundlessly not to move. Then, he planted another adoring kiss to her face, and, so very gently it startled her, took up a soft, controlled, unrushed pace. It was sensual, it was tired, it was so kind and caring and sweet that Michelle stared into his face, feeling floored. His hands were still cradling her cheeks and her neck, he was still grabbing adoringly at her mouth with his, and his body was loving hers, giving everything and taking nothing and it felt sublime. It felt beautiful. He was trying to convey what he wanted to her. That's why he'd asked her not to move. He wanted to show her how they were supposed to make love, wanted her to understand that what had happened before had upset him. It had felt perverse, it had felt terrible, but this…this felt right, and he wanted her to realise it for him. She did, and she made a soft, passionate whimper into his ear, and kissed his face as he did hers.

He moved amorously against her for a long time, each upstroke a thoughtful, reverent insertion of his body into hers, each extraction gentle, respectful, hungry but loving. A quiet worship of her, of them. After some time he returned his hand to her damp folds and did what he'd done before, caressing her nub leisurely with the pad of his thumb, coaxing her to come closer to the edge, to give herself over to their closeness. He seemed to time their orgasms perfectly, as though he couldn't help but do it, as though it was second nature. Hers was not the explosive, desperate experience it had been before. This was warm, and mellow and delicious. It stretched on and on, languid and deeply satisfying. It tingled in every part of her body, coating her in a blissful, sated heat, like being wrapped up in thick blankets on a cold night.

His was understated and slow, his body pouring serenely into hers for several moments, a content, muffled sigh leaving him. It was heady, rich and potent, but relaxing, as though he'd just lowered himself into a tepid bath. He rode it out, his hands reaching for hers of their own accord and holding them tight. He felt full, he felt whole, he felt like he'd reached a profound state of security, of comfort, of pleasure. He felt complete and so did she.

After a while she felt his fingers twist tamely in her hair, his breath coming out warmly against her chin, felt his mouth pull on her upper lip and gnaw tenderly upon it. It was so playful and loving that it tickled and she felt herself smiling. She couldn't help it. She was just smiling, and when he went to kiss her again, he found he couldn't. Her lips were stretched thin in a silly grin.

'Sweetheart,' he murmured huskily, sounding desperately overcome as he stared at her dazzling smile. 'Sweetheart, that's beautiful.'

It wasn't long, however, before she started crying. Tony had expected it, and he held her tight as sobs racked her body. She said nothing for a long time before -

'I just…' she murmured, 'I just miss you so much.'

Tony nodded into her temple, stroking her hair, letting her unleash her sorrow. It was an urgently sad moment between them, a moment of mutual grief.

'I miss you too. Christ, baby, I miss you every second.'

He let her cry, silent but steady tears, and played absently with her hair, not knowing how to comfort her, or himself.

'And…and I miss him.'

'I know you do, honey. I know. And he misses you. It's my fault. I'm fucking with what you both have. I…I know it's my fault.'

'No,' she told him, supressing a sob. 'N-No, it's not.'

They simultaneously drew each other closer for a quick hug. Tony drew in the smell of her hair, and kissed her temple. He bundled her up in his arms and took her into her bedroom. He handed her the shirt she wore to bed, and she put it on, not even hiding herself from him when she finally removed her bra. They sat together on the edge of the bed for a moment.

'You alright?' he asked quietly.

She nodded, her eyes puffy, her face red. He brought her against him, and kissed her hair.

'Can I stay tonight?'

She shook her head.

'That's okay,' he said gently. He didn't even feel angry at her for turning him out. He could almost understand.

'I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Yeah,' she said, wiping away what seemed like the last tear. 'Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow.'

_xx_


	27. Chapter 27

'What are you making?'

Mason was sitting perched up on the counter beside the fridge, watching Tony roam about the kitchen.

'Parmesan chicken, with roasted asparagus and tomatoes.'

'And what's the little thing in the fridge?'

'That's a dessert. Chocolate and raspberry tart.'

'Can I have some now please?'

'Believe it or not, Mase, it's not actually for you.'

Mason folded his arms in a huff.

'But Tonnnnyyy,' he whinged. 'I want it. Please.'

'Nope,' Tony said.

'Why not? Who's it for then?'

'Your mum.'

'Why?'

'Because it's her favourite,' he explained, tossing a bit of parmesan to his son. He wasn't quite able to catch it, but instead scooped it up from where it landed on the picture book in his lap and stuck it in his mouth.

'I like this cheese,' he told his father. 'It's good.'

'I know. It's your mum's favourite too.'

'Why does she get all this good stuff?'

Tony looked at him, feeling caught out.

'No reason,' he said sheepishly. 'And what made you stop reading, huh?'

Mason looked back to the book he'd been trying to read aloud as Tony prepared their dinner.

'It's too hard,' he said, sticking his bottom lip out. Tony smiled at him.

'Yeah, but you have to practise. You're supposed to have this read by Monday.'

'What day is it today?'

'Thursday.'

'Can I do it later?'

'No, do it now. You were doing so well. Just sound things out if they get hard.'

'Can we play Marines instead?'

'No.'

'Baseball?'

'Just read the book, Mason.'

'Urgh,' was the reply. Mason kicked his legs against the cabinets beneath him.

'What did you buy flowers for?' he asked, his dark eyes roving around the kitchen, avoiding his book.

Tony whirled around. Sitting on the table was a bunch of orchids wrapped in pretty, plum coloured gift wrapping.

'Uh….'

For a moment Tony reviewed his gestures, both the flowers and the food, and suddenly felt extremely foolish.

The fact was that Michelle had made him happy the night before. Absurdly happy. She'd joined him in the most romantic series of kisses imaginable and had, after the first awful round, made tender, unhurried love with him. She'd held him, touched his face, looked at him, smiled at him, and opened up to him. It had felt like being electrocuted, or stabbed in the heart or something. It had overwhelmed him. It had sent him into some sort of insane state of elation. He'd gone back to his room and had spent hours going over it, mulling over how extraordinary it had felt to lean against her, to feel her heart beating furiously beneath his chest, to feel her full, luscious lips chew intoxicatingly at his. She'd willingly spent time with him, had caressed him, hadn't pushed him away, and she'd sent his heart soaring because of it. He'd woken up in the morning with a smile on his face, feeling content and rejuvenated and hopeful. He'd wanted to do something for her, wanted to tell her how happy she made him. He thought about buying her something, some expensive gift to properly express how happy she'd made him, but it hadn't felt right. He wanted to give her something else. Something that meant a little more to them. She liked orchids. He knew that. She'd carried a small white bouquet of the things when she'd married him the first time. That had been enough to drive him into a florist as he'd gone shopping for all the things required to make her favourite meal.

He'd then picked Mason up from school and had played with him for a while. He looked through his reading log to work out what homework he had, and had promptly placed him on the kitchen counter to ensure that he did it. As he'd listened he'd placed the flowers on the table for Michelle to find when she got home and went about making their dinner. Now, with his son taking in his efforts with an objective eye, he realised, with an embarrassed jolt, that he was overdoing things.

'Yeah, I'm…I'm not sure.'

He strode to the table and snatched up the flowers. He tore the gift wrapping off them.

'Vase?'

Mason blinked at him.

'What?'

'A thing to put flowers in. Do you know where one is?'

'Um, maybe up there?'

Mason pointed to the cupboard above the sink.

Tony found a small, glass vase sitting behind a box of tissues and a packet of dish cloths.

'Good one, Mase,' he said, taking it down. He filled it with water and stuffed the flowers inside. Then he placed it on the counter, half hidden by the microwave, hoping it wasn't too noticeable.

'Why'd you do that?' Mason asked curiously.

Tony stared at the flowers for a few moments.

'Tony?'

'No reason,' he said, still feeling a little stupid.

He passed Mason another bit of parmesan, and took a bit for himself. They lounged against the counter together, eating cheese, looking at the extremely feminine image that was a bunch of pretty orchids in an ornate glass vase. He felt like an overzealous moron.

He didn't want to suffocate Michelle, didn't want her to think he was getting ahead of himself, or had made assumptions just because she hadn't shoved him away last night. She'd just thrilled him, that's all, and he hadn't been able to help himself. He cursed himself, realising a bit too late that little romantic gestures weren't quite appropriate for their situation. Hardly appropriate at all, really. Now, he couldn't discard the dinner he'd made for her, but he could make the flowers less of a gesture if he just stuck them somewhere out of plain sight.

'Can I _please_ have some of the chocolate thing?' Mason asked. He'd finished the cheese.

'No, that's not for you. There's ice cream for us.'

'Why does she get special stuff? She's not even being nice. OW!'

Tony had clipped Mason over the head with his hand. It hadn't been hard, but enough to make him rub his little skull angrily.

'What was that for?' he asked, his eyes fuming. Tony found it interesting that he didn't dissolve into tears. Maybe he was worried of what Tony would think of him, or perhaps he was just becoming fractionally more resilient.

'Mum,' Tony told him, annoyed. 'Don't call her _she_. It's Mum.'

'Why though?' Mason asked him defiantly.

'Because "she" sounds disrespectful, and you gotta do better than that. Your mother deserves more. She's been through a lot for you.'

'What are you talking about?' Mason asked, looking genuinely confused.

'Nothing. Just…just be more respectful.'

'She doesn't care what I call her,' Mason told him sullenly after a while. 'She doesn't even talk to me anymore.'

'You don't talk to her,' Tony pointed out.

'That's because you're better.'

'Better?'

Mason shrugged.

'You play with me whenever I want, and you make my dinner and stuff.'

'Mason,' Tony began, placing his hand on his shoulder. 'Mum's not been feeling very good lately, that's all. She loves you with all her heart. She loves you more than anything.'

'No, she doesn't,' he said indulgently, looking sorry for himself.

'She does.'

'Why doesn't she pick me up anymore then? Why isn't she reading me stories or looking at my paintings and stuff? And she doesn't even come when we go places.'

'Like on the weekends?'

'Yeah, she just makes you take me out.'

'No, she doesn't _make_ me. I ask if I'm allowed to take you out, and she says yes.'

'But she never comes too.'

'Do you ask her to?'

'She wouldn't come anyway.'

Tony folded him arms, watching his son closely.

'Does it make you angry?'

'What?'

'When mum doesn't come out? Or look at your paintings?'

Mason shrugged again.

'I don't know.'

'Does it make you sad?'

'No!' he said quickly. Too quickly. 'I…I don't care.'

Tony regarded him with a knowing sort of expression.

'Are you sure it doesn't?'

'Yes. I just want to do stuff with you. Not her anymore.'

'Why is that?'

'Because you're better. And I don't want to play with her if she doesn't want to play with me.'

'You know, I think if you asked her to play with you that would make her very happy. I think she would love to play.'

Mason glared down at his book.

'I just want you,' he said stubbornly. Tony frowned at him, feeling incredibly frustrated. He knew Mason was terribly angry at Michelle, but his withdrawal from her was not going to help anything.

'That sort of thinking isn't going to get us anywhere,' he muttered to himself. He turned to the oven to check on the chicken. 'Keeping reading that damn book!'

Half an hour later, Michelle arrived home after a somewhat hectic day of work. She let herself in to find her son reading out loud to his father, and to smell the most wonderful aromas wafting from the kitchen, where Tony was moving about. She stood by the front door for a moment, trying to work out what the smell was, and why she found it so shockingly good. She found she couldn't quite place it.

She ventured inside, put her bag down, slipped her shoes off and entered the kitchen.

'Hello,' she said, looking between them, feeling self-conscious.

'Hey,' Tony responded, stopping what he was doing and fixing her with a warm smile. Mason looked up for a moment, but then gazed hard at his book, saying nothing.

'Hi sweetheart,' Michelle said quietly to him.

'Hi,' was all he said. He continued to glare at the pages.

Michelle felt her stomach twist painfully, and, to her horror, felt tears in the back of her eyes. She concentrated on pushing them away. She wasn't sure why her tryst with Tony last night had fooled her into hoping anything else had changed in the family dynamic. Mason was still furious at her, still too enamoured with Tony to want her.

'D-did you have a nice day?' she asked him.

He shrugged.

She nodded, feeling his rejection wash over her.

'I'm just going to go put my things away,' she muttered, wanting to escape the kitchen immediately.

She only made the first few steps when she felt Tony take her hand.

'You'll come back, though?' he asked her softly. 'For dinner…'

Suddenly, Michelle recognised the delicious smell. It was that of her favourite dish, a chicken thing, cooked up by Tony in the some special way that she'd adored so much during their marriages. She hadn't had it in over six years. She hadn't even been able to recall its smell.

'You made that thing?' she asked him, keeping her voice as soft as possible to avoid exposing her emotion.

'Yeah,' he breathed. They were standing quite close together by the kitchen table. 'For you.'

She dropped her gaze from his, not knowing what to say.

Tony held her hand between both of his, watching her, unsure of what sort of reaction he could expect. Right now, she just looked devastated by Mason's refusal to properly acknowledge her.

'Mason hasn't had a bath yet,' he ventured after a moment. 'He wants you to do it.'

Michelle stared disbelievingly at him.

'No I don't!' a sulky voice erupted from the counter.

Tony shot a furious look back at Mason.

'Yes, Mason, you do!'

'No! I didn't say that.'

'Are you sure you don't?' Michelle asked hopefully, looking back into the kitchen at him, putting on a cheery smile. 'Because we can do it together, sweetheart, if…if you want.'

Tony watched her, feeling distressed. Michelle was desperate enough for her son's company to almost beg him to change his mind.

'I want Tony,' Mason said irately. 'I just want Tony.'

He glared at her, his brow furrowed heatedly. Michelle expelled a terribly upset sigh. She moved away from her son and husband, trying to get to the sanctity of her bedroom as quickly as possible.

'Hey,' Tony said. He reclaimed her hand and drew her back toward him. He wrapped his arms around her desperately. He couldn't let her leave them like this, not when her heart was hurting this much. If he didn't do something she might not come back for the night. He held her to him tenderly, and kissed her cheek. 'I missed you today.'

She looked at him, their faces mere inches apart, wrapped up in his grip. Her eyes wondered away from his, back to the kitchen. He had a feeling she was looking in the direction of the microwave. Tony wondered if it was the vase she was staring at. She then sniffed almost soundlessly and extracted herself from his arms.

'We need to talk,' she informed him.

Tony took a deep breath, feeling fearful.

'Alright,' he said. 'After dinner though.'

'I…' she looked as though she wanted to tell him she didn't plan on joining them for dinner. Her eyes roamed the kitchen again, taking in Tony's many labours, and her shoulders sagged slightly.

'Fine,' she said. 'After dinner.'

Once Tony had bathed Mason, the three of them came together at the table. Their meal together was not what Tony had hoped it would be. Michelle sat with them, eating, trying to make herself a part of the conversation Mason was having with Tony, but Mason wouldn't have it. He finished his food, asked Tony to put him in bed, and brushed past his mother on the way.

Tony felt furious at him, but he was at a loss of what to do when it came to making him see sense. How could he explain all this to a six year old?

Tony found Michelle later in her study, at her computer. He placed himself on the couch, feeling tried, feeling worn out. He watched her type for several minutes.

'Tony,' she said, her eyes on the screen. 'Please don't buy me flowers.'

He said nothing and kept watching her. He hadn't brought her attention to the stupid tart in the fridge and was sincerely glad for it.

'I wanted to say sorry about last night,' she murmured. He frowned at her.

'There's nothing to apologise for.'

'I just…I wasn't in a very good frame of mind. The last few weeks have been difficult for me.'

'I know,' he said. 'I understand.'

She nodded.

'Mason and I…' she said, 'we need to get back on track. I've been stupid to let it get this far out of hand. It can't go on. I miss him too much.'

Tony nodded, feeling pleased by her altered attitude to her relationship with Mason.

'I'll do whatever you need me to do to make it better,' he said. 'Anything.'

She took him in for a moment, and then chewed her lip.

'I also wanted to say thank you,' she said, ignoring his last comment, 'for comforting me last night. You were very good to me.'

'Good to you? What are you talking about? We just made love.'

'We shouldn't have. I…it was a mistake on my part. I shouldn't have initiated it, or let it continue. I shouldn't have let you think things were alright between us.'

Tony knew his jaw was clenched. He knew he was glaring furiously at her.

'You made me so happy last night, Michelle. Don't call it a fucking mistake.'

She watched him for a moment, looking apprehensive. She then returned her gaze to her screen.

'Is that all you wanted to talk about?' he asked resentfully after a few minutes.

'Just a moment,' she murmured, her eyes zipping back and forth over whatever she was reading.

'What're you looking at it?'

She didn't answer him, looking troubled by something.

'Michelle!'

She looked up.

'Nothing,' she said. 'Just Landers.'

Tony blinked.

'What does that mean?'

She shrugged.

'He's been looking at your FBI file,' she explained to him.

'What?' Tony asked, sitting up straight.

'It's nothing,' she informed him. 'He does it occasionally. Not as often as mine, but still, often enough.'

'Michelle …'

'There's nothing to worry about,' she said. 'I've been running from these people for a long time. I know what to expect from them. Him, especially.'

Tony stared at her before a strange thought came to him.

'Last night, when you said the others were either dead, or had given up, what did you mean?'

She frowned at him.

'It's only been six years,' Tony elaborated. 'How are most of them dead?'

'Oh,' she said. She looked as though she'd prefer not to answer the question. 'I…er…I killed them.'

They sat, looking at each other for a long time.

'What?' Tony asked, thinking he must have misheard.

'I didn't do it in cold blood,' she said haughtily. 'It was out of necessity. Most of it happened, unplanned, the night I broke out of the compound they were holding me at. I got hold of a gun, and they…they tried to stop me.'

Tony ran a hand through his hair, feeling stunned.

'I didn't know that,' he told her.

She shrugged.

'There was no other way,' she said. 'I…I had to get out of there, before they extracted any more information out of me; more codes, more secrets. They'd already taken so much, but there was more for them to dig through.'

Tony just watched her, feeling sickened by her experiences, feeling staggered by her strength. She gazed at him, and then her eyes dropped to the box sitting at his feet.

'What's that?' she asked, frowning. Tony looked down at it, wondering if this was the right time to give it to her or not. He'd had the box in his apartment for a couple of days, and had decided to bring it with him tonight. He had meant for it to accompany his other lame, romantic gestures, but now he just wanted her to have it. No gallantry, no motives. He just wanted to share it with her. He shrugged slightly and decided to throw caution to the wind.

'This…this is something I've had in storage for a long time,' he told her.

She frowned at him.

'What is it?'

'Some of our things,' he said quietly. She gaped at him.

'What?'

'I…a few days after I'd been revived, I went back to our place. I did it quickly, at night, once the forensic team had left and the wreckage of the car had been carted away. I just wanted a few things…just things to keep before I… anyway, I had it put in storage the week I went to Washington, but I thought you might like it, so I had it shipped here a few days ago.'

Inside were photos, ones he couldn't fit in his wallet. Michelle was in every one of them. Beside them were a few pieces of her jewellery. She stared at them, things she'd not seen in such a long time. There were also two knobbly clay figurines, beloved gifts made by her niece and nephew from before she'd even met Tony. Her nephew was in high school now, her niece just starting college.

Next to the figurines was a tape of the very few home videos Tony had taken as he'd annoyed her with a new camera one Christmas. There was a small china ornament, a sickly sweet depiction of two little birds, something given to them as a wedding present by Tony's younger brother and Michelle had never let him throw it away. Then, Michelle saw a black and white photograph, and realised it was a sonogram from the one and only ultrasound they had attended together, the Saturday before the car bomb, when they'd been informed that their baby was male. With it was a miniscule, brown teddy bear, barely bigger than her thumb, with a blue bow on his neck, something Tony had purchased in a craze of ecstasy once he'd discovered they were expecting a boy. He had propped the sonogram against the little bear on a shelf in their bedroom, and Michelle had watched on, shaking her head in amusement.

She touched it gingerly. She knew Tony was watching her.

'I have this too,' he said, holding up a little silver heart on a chain. Michelle gazed at it for almost a full minute before she took it from him.

'This…' she muttered, fondling the little heart with her fingers, feeling shocked. 'I haven't seen this since…'

'Since before our divorce,' Tony offered. Michelle nodded. 'Longer, really.'

She looked questioningly at him.

'You…ah…you took it off to go to the Chandler Plaza Hotel, remember? When you changed.'

'Yes,' Michelle said, straining her memory. 'That – that was the last time I saw it.'

'I've had it. I've always had it. I took it from your locker when I thought you were infected, and I guess I forgot about it. Once I was arrested over the Saunders thing they found it on me and it went into my personal items when I was in custody. They gave it back to me when I was released, and I kept it. I was bitter, and angry, and I wasn't good to you, but still, it meant something to me, and so I kept it. Then you left, and I held onto it. I forgot about it once we were back together, coming across it in a drawer or in a box every once in a while, always meaning to put it back on you but never getting to it. It was the first thing I grabbed when I went back…when I thought you were dead.'

Michelle brushed her thumb over it. She rubbed her forehead for a moment, and then placed it back in the box with all the other things. Tony frowned at her.

'You know,' she said conversationally. 'When I was being held by Landers and his colleagues I knew you were dead. At first, when I woke up and realised I'd been taken, I begged for information on you. I had no idea what had really happened. All I knew was that one minute we'd been getting ready at home to go to a meeting and the next I'd woken up nearly two weeks later as a prisoner. I couldn't comprehend it. I just…I didn't know what had happened. Then, they told me about the bomb, told me why they had me, and then…then they told me you'd died. They taunted me with the news, showed me a photo of your body, they proved it to be true.'

'Still,' she said, 'I deluded myself into believing it was a hoax. I guess I did it as a defence mechanism, I suppose. Somewhere, deep down, I knew it was true, but on the surface, I ignored them. I told myself I had to hold on, that I had to get back to you. It took a while to plan out an escape, but I did, and I saw it through. I got away, went on the run, and, at the first chance I got I sought confirmation of my fears. You were dead. It was reported online, in your file, in an obituary alongside mine. It nearly killed me.'

She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, speaking as though she was telling him about her day at work.

'It was only a day or two later that I realised I was still pregnant.'

She chewed her top lip for a moment.

'I realised I still had our son. I realised I still had you…that's how I felt. You see, I couldn't go to your grave. I was on the run, I had nothing; nothing left from our old lives, no photos and none of the things in this box of yours. I had no part of you to hold on to, nothing physical, nothing real. I had nothing to prove you hadn't just been a dream or something. Then, once I calmed down enough to realise I was still pregnant, I felt as though perhaps the world wasn't as cruel as it seemed. Life wasn't as harsh as I felt it was, because I did have something of you in my possession, the most wonderful thing possible, better than any token or object. By some ironic miracle, I realised that the very last piece of you left on earth wasn't buried in the ground, but buried inside me, alive and strong. _You_ were growing inside me.'

She stared at her hands, folded delicately in her lap.

'I know you've done things - lots of things - that have proved how much you love me. I haven't done many things of that nature in return, at least not anything you've really witnessed, but you should know how happy I was that day. I couldn't stop touching my stomach, couldn't stop cradling the bump there, knowing I was, in some way, touching you, that I was close to you, loving you. Everything I did from that moment on was because I loved you, was because I loved you so much I couldn't do anything except nurture and honour your growing son. It breathed new life into me. It almost healed me, almost made me happy. Then, he was born. He was alive, he was mine, he was in my arms. I wasn't destined to be without you forever. Then, I looked into his face and saw all of you in him and I felt love like I'd never felt it before. You can't understand how I felt in that moment. The baby I was clutching was the only thing I had that made us real. He was the only evidence I had of you, and all that you'd been to me, and I felt incapacitated with emotion. I held him close. I didn't even sleep. I couldn't put him down. That's what you have to understand. For the first months of his life he didn't leave my grasp. I was afraid he might disappear if I let him go, afraid I might discover him to be a figment of my imagination or something. Just hearing him cry soothed me. Our little son, wailing and moving about, with needs to be seen to by no one but me. I got to keep him warm, got to feed him, got to kiss him and hold him. The day he took his first steps I felt unable to breathe. The day he first called me "mummy" I cried and cried.

'I know I smothered him. I told myself not to but…I figured I could allow myself that. I felt as though I loved our child more than other mothers loved their children. I honestly did. How could any woman possibly love a child like this when that child came about without incident? When their husbands were alive and present, when they had comfortable, unthreatening lifestyles? You know, I used to scoff at them. They could never know the sort of love I felt for my son, not when they'd become mothers without losing the love of their life, without torture, without running all over the world. I heard them complain about toys on the floor and nagging and fussy eating habits. I listened to them complain about dirty nappies and finger marks on their walls. I couldn't understand them. I felt lucky just to have my son look at me. Felt lucky that he was just alive and with me. Anyway…that's why I don't need anything in that box. I have him.'

She took a stabilising breath.

'He's my vice, Tony. My weakness in a lot of ways. In every way, really. I can't act objectively or make rational decisions when he's involved. I can't control myself when it comes to him. I…I can't have him pull away from me, Tony. I can't have him ignore me. He's my world. I can't be without him. It's destroying me.'

She brushed away a tear.

'I wish there was some other way,' she murmured, looking quite lost, 'But..but if there is I can't see it.'

'What are you talking about?' Tony asked, feeling cold dread creep up inside him.

Michelle stared at her hands, her eyes unable to meet his.

'He's…he's why I need you to leave,' she said. 'For good this time.'

_Reviews are opium but only if it's worth it._


	28. Chapter 28

'You're being selfish,' Tony explained to her. 'Wanting me to go is selfish and nothing more and I won't let you push me out. Not again. I'm sorry Michelle, but I won't.'

'I'm not being selfish,' she said honestly. 'I've been going over this in my head for weeks. This is only half about me and him. The other half…the other half is about you and him.'

They were still sitting together on the couch, the box of their old possessions between them, and Tony was trying to make her see reason. He knew she was in pain. Mason's anger was doing terrible things to her, and he was certain she didn't mean the things she was saying. She didn't actually want him gone. He knew that, he just needed to ensure that she knew that.

'He thinks you're a saint,' she was saying. 'He thinks you're the greatest thing on this earth. He gets to play with you, gets to love you, but what is he going to do when he discovers that there are dozens of children in Washington who don't have their own fathers because of you?'

'He won't find out,' Tony growled.

'Don't delude yourself,' Michelle said. 'You can't stop him from knowing. He's not going to stay six forever. He'll be a teenager one day, then a man. It'll all come out at some point, and you'll lose him then.'

'He'll understand. I'll make him understand.'

But Michelle just shook her head.

'You know you're going to lose him, sooner or later,' she said, and for some reason Tony felt the truth of her words hit him. 'And…and frankly I want it to be sooner. I want you gone from here, Tony. You've put a strain on my life…on our lives. I can barely function. If I'm not appalled by you then I'm being rejected by him, and then I get depressed, or furious, or guilty and I hate myself because I want you, all the time. It's sick. It's not right. I'm losing my mind.'

Tony suddenly realised she was being serious. It wasn't just her pain talking. It wasn't just the weeks of rejection egging her on. This was thought out, it had been deliberated over; a conclusion had been reached. Tony felt himself drain away slowly. He felt all the hope, and progress, and warmth he'd found in this apartment leave him.

'We just need to take it slow,' he said urgently. His hands had gone out to grasp her shoulders. She flinched slightly. 'One step at a time. Let's…let's just sleep on it, alright? Let's talk tomorrow. We'll get you and Mason back to normal, you'll see. Everything will be back to normal.'

'No,' she said, her voice thick. Tears were forming in her eyes. She removed herself from his grip and backed away, sitting a foot apart from him on the couch. She looked empty. Resigned and empty.

'You should never have come back,' she whispered. A tear trailed down beside her nose. 'The second I saw you standing with him in the living room the night you arrived I knew this would happen. I _knew_ it, Tony. Why …_why_ did you do this?'

She was crying hard now. Tony watched her, feeling insufficient, feeling revolted by himself for destroying his family and revolted by her for breaking his heart. He knew he was killing her, knew he should go but…no! He suddenly felt desperation flare up inside him. He couldn't leave. What would he do? He had nowhere to go. No one to see, no one to care for, no one to care for him. No life beyond the two people in this stupid, fucking apartment.

'No,' he said forcefully, squaring his shoulders, allowing his fear to unfurl into outright fury. 'NO! I can't leave. I'm not going to.'

Michelle took in a distressed, rattling breath. Tony looked at her, his face rigid. He looked quite manic. The situation between them was sliding out of control. It was tilting beyond reality. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. Not when it felt so much like hell.

'Stop this,' he said, grabbing her shoulders again, his fingers digging into her skin. He knocked the box from between them and dragged her close to him. He hugged her so hard she could barely breathe and he refused to release her despite her struggling. 'Stop saying shit like this,' he snarled savagely into her ear. She cried against him, begging him to let her go. 'It's not happening, so just get over it! Hear me?' He gave her a rough shake and heard her gasp. 'Get over this shit in your head! I'm _not_ leaving!'

He knew he was scaring her but he didn't care. He was losing his grasp. He couldn't do this. He couldn't lose his family. Not again.

Michelle shoved him back from her, clamoured to her feet and moved away from the couch. She looked simply horrified, and he could see dark red marks in her upper arms from where his fingers had clenched horribly at her.

'Please go,' she said, her face distraught, soaked with tears. She was begging at him. 'Please leave. I'm sorry, Tony.' Now she was sobbing, her words strung together, almost incoherent. 'I-I…I'm so s-sorry. Please go. _Please_. You _need_ to go. There's no other way. P-Please.'

Tony got to his feet. He knew tears of his own were evident, and he despised himself for not showing more control. The fact was that he was petrified. He wasn't sure if he'd ever been this terrified before in his life. There was fear sitting in his chest, so acute, so sharp and vast that he could hardly find room for his next breath. He needed to find a solution to all this, and fast, and his desperation was freaking him out. He felt like panting, he felt smashing something, he felt like breaking down.

'You can't do this,' he breathed at her. She watched him, frightened. He knew his expression was alarming. It had to be. 'You can't fucking do this. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with him. Don't you get it? You're my wife. He's my boy. I can't…Michelle, I can't!'

'You have to!'

'Michelle, don't…don't do this!' he pleaded. 'I belong here!'

'Tony , I'm…I'm sorry…s-so sorry…'

'Give him to me then. Give him to me, Michelle. Let me take him.'

'What?'

The moment he said it he wished he hadn't. He knew he couldn't take him. He would never take Mason from her, no matter how much he adored him, how deeply he loved him. He shook his head.

'I…I'm supposed to be here,' he threw at her, not knowing what else to say.

'You aren't!' she yelled back, the words strangled. 'I know now that you aren't! How can you? You've ruined everything. You've ruined _everything_. Everything we had, everything we could've had. You killed so many people…why, Tony? Why did you have to ruin everything?' She let out a desperate, shuddering sob, looking ill. 'You need to leave. You _need_ to.'

'NO!' he bellowed at her, his voice a blaring roar in the tiny study. She jumped, tears dribbling onto her shirt. 'No! My life is here. Fuck, Michelle! MY – LIFE – IS – HERE!'

'W-what's happening?'

Through their mutual agony they both realised they were no longer alone. They looked around to see Mason standing barefoot in the doorway in his green pyjamas. His hair was tousled, his face pale. He was looking stunned, frightened and quite distressed as his eyes bounced between them.

Tony felt his heart struggle at the sight of his beautiful child standing before them. The child he had to leave.

'Mase,' he said desperately. He rushed toward him, grabbed him, hurled him up into his arms. He needed to hold him, needed to feel his warm little body against his. 'Mase, it's alright.'

'What's wrong?' he asked, looking sleepily into Tony's face, placing his little hands on his father's shoulders. 'Why are you yelling?'

'Nothing's wrong,' Tony told him, his hand cradling his curly head. He cuddled him, breathing him in, feeling destroyed, feeling dead inside.

'Mum?' Mason asked, looking over Tony's shoulder at Michelle, his voice alarmed. 'Why are you crying?'

Michelle looked as though she wanted to answer him, but her lips shuddered and she shook her head, turning away slightly. She couldn't bare the sight of her son in Tony's arms, the sight of them together for the last time.

'I have to go away, Mason,' Tony said, his voice unable to conceal the fact that he too was crying. Mason blinked at him, looking overwhelmed by the things he was seeing in both his parents' faces.

'Where?'

Tony thought furiously, and realised he had no answer.

'Do you mean like when you went away before?' Mason asked suddenly, his eyes terrified.

'Yeah,' Tony said. 'I…I can't come back though.'

Mason blinked at him, as though he didn't quite trust what he had heard.

'No,' he said, his voice small. 'No…don't go away, Tony.'

Tony watched his son start crying, and understood, properly, what it felt like to lose a child. He thought he'd understood before, but now he realised he'd had no idea.

'Tony,' Mason urged him, wiping his dripping little nose. His hands were around Tony's neck. 'Don't go away again. Please d-don't go.'

'I have to,' Tony whispered. He moved his son's face away from his shoulder and kissed it. Mason didn't even move, looking shocked, looking as though he suspected he was having a bad dream. Tony kissed him, again and again, and held him furiously to his chest.

'I love you, Mase. I love you. I love you so much. I love you.'

Then, Mason was back on his feet in the doorway, swaying slightly as he watched his mother cry without respite, listening to the front door slam as his father left the apartment.

Michelle went to him, took him in her arms, and hours later he lay in bed, listening out for their voices, waiting all night for any sound that meant his father had come home and his mother had stopped crying. But there was nothing at all to be heard, and the next thing Mason knew he was opening his eyes, his little green clock chiming him awake. Tony had not come back.

* * *

><p><em>x<em>


	29. Chapter 29

Michelle didn't sleep. Not for a moment. She'd done the right thing. She knew she had. She'd been correct in saying there was no other way, because there wasn't. She knew that. She also knew it was going to hurt. It was going to hurt her for a long time, for years to come, that she'd pushed Tony out, had taken Mason from him, had killed the love they shared. She knew she'd probably never recover from it, never heal properly, never feel whole again. But what else could she do? There was nothing. There was no way out, no way to make it work. Then again, there was no way to live without him, but she'd recognised that it was the lesser of two evils.

She lay in bed for hours, wondering when the pain would cease. She didn't move. Barely breathed. Life started today. _She_ hadn't died alongside her heart. She was still a functioning human being. She had to keep going. She had Mason to think about now, and her bond with him to repair. She couldn't do as she wanted, couldn't hide away, couldn't weep for weeks. Tony was the love of her life, but having him here was marginally worse than not (she was sure of it). She realised she craved him. She realised she wanted to say a proper goodbye, but of course, goodbyes could turn into hellos if she wasn't careful and she knew she wasn't careful when it came to Tony.

She just needed more. She needed closure or something. For them to part company in love. No, that was stupid. That couldn't work, would never work. But…he'd just left. He'd just held Mason against him and then left and Michelle had felt her heart spasm and her brain short circuit because it was the end. He had left her. The father of her child. Her husband.

She got up. She got dressed. She ensured Mason was awake, and pulling his clothes on. The first thing he did was ask about Tony. She had nothing to tell him, and instead made his breakfast and deflected his questions. He was mad at her for not giving him information, furious at her for refusing to confirm his fears about his father. But she could hardly even speak. She was broken now. She was almost gone. She couldn't reassure him. Not when she was in agony.

Of course, it was this agony that preoccupied her all morning. It preoccupied her to the extent that she didn't even notice the two men outside the apartment, watching her as she left. Normally, she was vigilant. Even now, even six years after everything, she was vigilant, but not today. Today, her mind and heart were spluttering, dying out, and she saw nothing really.

She didn't detect the men as they followed her and Mason to school. She didn't even note the two black vehicles parked across the street from the gates as she saw her son safely inside.

She especially failed to notice the fact that they didn't follow her on to work. She failed to notice that it wasn't her they were after.

Her day was not productive. Her colleagues noticed she was not herself. She was barely able to sit up straight in her chair, so crushing was her pain from the night before. The phone on her desk nearly rang out before she was startled out of her thoughts enough to answer it. It was Mason's principal. Michelle blinked. She listened. Mason hadn't come back to class after recess, and his friends had said someone had taken him away.

Michelle felt something almost hopeful spark inside her.

'Oh,' she said, her voice rough from lack of use, 'oh. That's…that's nothing to worry about. That was his father. He'll be at home. Thank you for calling though.'

The principal was relieved, but gave Michelle a brief lecture about the rules regarding students leaving early. They were required to be signed out at the office by their relatives, so they could keep track of which child was meant to be where. The principal was obviously sick of Mason's frightening disappearances. Michelle couldn't blame her and listened. She then apologised, and thanked her again. She hung up.

Tony couldn't stay away. She understood that. He wanted to spend some more time with Mason, to say farewell properly, to feel some of the closure she herself was longing. Still, he should've told her, or messaged or something before taking Mason. It wasn't really right to scare the school like that.

She let the hours pass, working slowly, working at a pace she felt she could handle, leaving Mason and Tony to enjoy their time together (she owed them both that, at least) until it was time to return home. She was dreading it. She didn't think she could face Tony again so soon, or watch him embrace Mason before he had to leave for the final time. It was late afternoon when she approached the apartment. She let herself in, dropped her bag at the door and stopped. She looked around. She listened. They weren't there. Frowning, she removed her jacket and her shoes, rubbing her neck. She fished her phone from her bag.

_What time will you bring him home?_

The reply was almost instant.

_What are you talking about?_

Michelle studied the message for a moment, confused.

_Mason_, she clarified, wondering how Tony could have possibly not known. _What time will you bring him back?_

She jumped when the phone rang barely a second after her message was sent. She held it in her hand, feeling it vibrate. Tony had never rung her before. One ring. Two. Three. She hit the answer button and took a breath.

'Tony?' she said softly.

His voice on the other end was tormented. It was terrified.

'Michelle, I don't have him!' he told her urgently, sounding crazed, sounding out of control. 'Michelle! He's not with me!'


	30. Chapter 30

The phone had barely slipped from Michelle's fingers when Tony barged through the door. She looked at him, startled. How long had she been standing there, unable to move, unable to form proper thought? She didn't know. It hadn't felt like long. Tony rushed to her and took her arms.

'Where is he?' he demanded of her. 'Michelle, what's happened?'

Michelle stared at him, her face slack, unable to speak. Her mind raced furiously. Mason. Mason had been taken from his school by someone. It hadn't been Tony.

Then, she had a fleeting vision of two men outside the apartment, two men who'd followed them to school. She hadn't taken any notice then, too troubled to see anything beyond her pain.

She then moved away from Tony, fled into the study and rushed to start her computer. Tony followed her.

'Michelle! Tell me what happened!'

'Landers,' she murmured, feeling as though she was actually about to be sick.

'What?'

'Nicholas Landers!' she nearly yelled at him. Her face was set, harsh, her eyes hard yet terrified.

'How did he find me?' she said to herself. 'How did he find me?'

Tony watched her, his heart pumping in his chest.

'How did he know?' she murmured. 'What changed? What sent him here?'

Tony continued to watch her, feeling violently impatient, feeling as though they should be out, in the streets, searching for their son, instead of staring, horrified, at each other in the study.

'He looked at your file,' she muttered. Her voice didn't sound like her own and her eyes stared in a very vacant, unfocused way. 'Why did he look at your file?'

'I don't know,' Tony said, looking paralysed. 'What do you mean Landers? What's he got to do with anything?'

'You don't understand,' Michelle said, her voice less than a whisper, her face frozen. 'Landers want's me. He's always wanted me, but he wants revenge more. He'd like the information I have, but what he'd really like is to hurt me. That's why he took Mason. That's…that's why he's going to kill him.'

Michelle's words hung in the air for a long time. Neither of them made any movement or any sound.

'He's not…he's not going to kill him,' Tony told her finally, staring at her, horrified beyond description. 'That's not going to happen. You don't even know he has him.'

'I cost him millions of dollars,' Michelle said, partly ignoring him. 'Nearly billions. He lost everything. He went insane. He's not right. You don't know him. I looked him into his eyes as he hurt me…I know who he is.'

She returned to her computer. Her hands struck against the keyboard, digging something up. Tony watched her. They were both unstuck from each other, unable to hear each other properly, unable to acknowledge anything more than their terror.

Then, Tony realised Michelle had accessed Nicholas Landers' file on her computer. She then grabbed the phone of the desk and fumbled to dial a number from the screen.

'What are you doing?' Tony yelled.

'C-calling him,' Michelle said, her words slurred, her fingers shaking. 'Calling him. His number is listed here.'

'Michelle!' Tony barked. He rushed across the room and grabbed the phone from her. 'We have to talk about this! We don't even know if he has him. We have no idea! We need to calm down. We need to think first!'

'Get off!' Michelle hissed, a strange look in her eye. 'We have to act fast. We have to act now. Landers is the only one left and this isn't about leverage! It's about revenge!'

'What if it's not him? What if he's not even here? If you call him you'll have effectively told him where you are!'

'Listen to me!' she yelled. 'It's him. I know it is. There's no one else!'

'I won't let you call him! Not until we know more!'

Suddenly, Michelle was but inches away from him, fighting him for the phone, tearing at him in her desperation.

'Don't you understand?' she cried. 'He's got Mason!'

'Michelle –'

'We can't let him die!' she was crying now, yelling hysterically. 'We can't! He's…he's our baby! He's our baby!'

'He's not going to die! It's not going to happen!' Tony told her furiously, grasping her arms again.

'I was so bad to him,' Michelle sobbed. 'Tony, I was so bad…I wouldn't even look at him…for weeks…and now they have him, because of me…and I didn't even hug him today…oh god.'

Suddenly, she wrenched the phone away from him. He didn't try to stop her again. He could only watch her go back to the screen to dial the number a second time.

'What are you going to do?' he asked, feeling numb.

She ignored his question.

'You'll look at your file, won't you?' she asked him, the pitch of her voice decreasing slightly. 'You will have to look at it every week to make sure no one is showing interest in you. Don't forget! If there's any interest – any serious interest – you'll need to move. You'll have Mason to think about, so you mustn't forget.'

Tony felt his eyes narrow. What was she talking about?

'And…and you'll tell Mason who you really are. You'll tell him you're his father. It'll make him so happy.'

'Michelle,' Tony asked cautiously. 'What are you talking about?'

But she seemed not to hear him.

'I know you can do this,' she told him reassuringly. 'You're a wonderful father. I knew you would be. I couldn't ask for more. I'm…I'm so glad you're here. I wouldn't be able to do this otherwise.'

Tony just stared at her. Then, she entered the call and listened to it ringing. It was barely a moment before she heard a voice on the other end.

'Hello Michelle,' it said. 'I've been waiting to hear from you.'

'Where is he?' she asked into the receiver. Tony noted a certain tone of familiarity in her voice. He wondered how much time she'd spent in Landers' presence, how much time she'd spent in agony with him, asking him to stop, suffering as he extracted information from her, cringing as he exacted his revenge.

As she spoke Tony also noted with a good deal of curiosity that she didn't seem upset anymore. It seemed as though she was in total control of the situation. It seemed as though she had a plan.

Meanwhile, Michelle was listening to Landers' voice, feeling so many terrible memories flood back to her.

'He's here with me,' Landers told her. 'You know, I didn't know you were pregnant when we had you. Had we known that we might've been more humane.'

'How did you find me?' she asked.

'After six years? I thought you'd be interested to know it was your husband, actually,' Landers said. 'I stopped following you quite some time ago, and started watching him instead. The moment he broke out of prison I knew he was my best chance of finding you. It wasn't until he had a box shipped into Toronto from his personal storage last week that I discovered where you were. It didn't take long to locate you after that.'

Michelle swallowed. She couldn't even find it in herself to hate Tony for the mistake he'd made. Not now, not knowing what she was about to do.

'Pick a place,' she said after a moment of buzzing silence.

'A place?' Landers asked her.

'Yes,' Michelle said. 'I don't care where. Somewhere quiet, preferably. I'll be there to make the switch in half an hour.'

'The switch?'

'Yes,' she said, her voice unwavering. 'Me for my son.'

Tony suddenly understood what she had been talking about before. He'd been so confused, but not anymore. She'd been giving him instructions, clear instructions, all the while knowing she was about to give her life in order to save Mason's. All the while knowing she was about to leave their son in his care forever.

'You want me,' she told Landers. 'It was me who cost you everything, not him. So you'll have me. Now…now pick a place.'


	31. Chapter 31

Tony ripped the phone from Michelle's hand. She looked on as he hung up on Landers. She stared, horrified, into his eyes. Landers hadn't yet named the place. He hadn't yet agreed to the switch, and Mason was still in terrible danger. Hanging up on him was a very perilous move.

'What've you done?' she breathed.

Tony jammed his hand through his short hair, pacing about, looking psychotic.

'Switch?' he barked at her, unable to control his voice. '_Switch_? What the fuck are you doing?'

'Tony, give me the phone,' Michelle instructed calmly. She came toward him, her hand outstretched.

'Get away,' he warned her. He seemed to have no control over himself at all. 'Give yourself up? Who do you think you are to make decisions like that? You're not thinking.'

Michelle felt a sudden gust of impatience. Mason was all alone, terrified, and Michelle had no idea what Landers was doing to him. She needed to speak with Landers - immediately. She needed to get this under control.

'Tony, we're losing time,' she said, creeping closer. 'This is our only option.'

'We can find him,' Tony gritted out. 'We can track Landers down and get to Mason and bring him home. There will be no switch.'

'And how are we going to do that?' Michelle asked. 'This isn't CTU. We don't have those sorts of capabilities, or the man power, or any of the software required for that sort of thing. It's just us. No one can help us. This is the only way.'

'No! I'm not going to allow this. You're crazy if you think I am.'

'Okay,' Michelle said. 'Okay, we'll just…we'll just go through with the switch to get Mason safe and then you can find me again, or I'll escape the way I did before. We just…we need Mason safe.'

Tony's eyes were darting from side to side, as though furiously combing through his brain, looking for a solution, searching for a way. He seemed to find none. Even if they allowed the switch to go through just to ensure Mason's safety, Tony knew his chances of finding Michelle after that were slim. She was just using the idea to get him onside, to comfort him.

'Michelle,' he said hoarsely.

'I know,' she said, realising that he understood. 'It's okay. As long as we have him, everything's okay.'

But _they_ wouldn't have him. Tony would have him, and Michelle would be dead and though he desperately needed to find another way, he too knew that time was running out. With every passing moment their little son was closer to death himself.

Suddenly, Tony had Michelle in his arms. He was kissing her, and she was kissing him back furiously, their hands at each other's face, their body's melding together, both panic-stricken and terrified but both needing to feel each other.

'I can't let you do this,' Tony whispered desperately to her. 'I can't let you!'

'I have to,' she said. 'You would do the same for him if you could.'

It was then that the phone rang loudly in his hand. He jumped. She sucked in a breath. They both looked down at it, seeing Landers' number register on the screen. Michelle lunged for it, and surprisingly, Tony let her have it.

'Put it on speaker,' he told her.

She nodded, feeling sick and hopeful and terrified all at once.

'Michelle?' Lander's voice filled the room.

'Yes,' she said curtly. 'Yes. I'm here. Have you settled on a place?'

'No Michelle,' the voice said. Tony listened to it, feeling bloodthirsty, wanting, _needing_, to destroy the man behind it.

'No?' Michelle asked. 'Then…then I'll pick a place.'

'No,' the voice said again. 'There will be no switch.'

Michelle stared at the phone in her hand, feeling her blood rush in her veins, feeling her lungs constrict.

'I don't want you,' Landers told her calmly. 'I have no use for you at all.'

'So…so then what do you want?' she asked fearfully.

'I want you to suffer,' he explained. 'The way I've suffered because of you. Taking you and killing you is easy, for both you and me. It's not going to make you suffer the way I want you to.'

'S-Suffer?' Michelle asked.

'Yes,' Landers said. 'That's why I've taken Mason instead. Your son means a lot to you. Your suffering will be all-consuming once he's dead.'

Michelle felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

'In fact,' Landers said. 'I want you to hear something.'

There was silence on the line for a moment before the most terrible sound exploded into the room. It was a scream. A horrible, agonising, wailing sound, a sound of such pain Michelle felt her knees buckle. It was Mason.

'NO! MASON! NO!' she cried. She felt was though the world was crumbling around her. There was no deal she could make with Landers. No switch she could negotiate. He had come to Toronto with no other objective than to kill her son. Once he had done that, he could slink back to the United States, satisfied to know she would be in agony for the rest of her life.

'I want you to listen to him die,' Landers said. Again, another blood-curdling shriek ripped through the air. Landers and whoever he had hired were doing something terrible, something gruesome, to Mason. 'When he goes silent,' Landers told her, 'you'll know he's dead.'

Suddenly, Michelle was on her feet.

'Alyssa and Laura,' she said, her teeth clenched.

Mason's screams decreased in volume slightly, as though Landers had walked away from where he was being hurt.

'What did you say?' Landers asked softly.

'Alyssa and Laura,' Michelle said again. 'They're your daughters' names, aren't they?'

Landers said nothing for several moments. Michelle could just make out the sound of Mason crying excruciatingly in the background. She gripped the phone so hard she was surprised she hadn't broken it.

'What?' she asked, brushing both sweat and tears from her face. 'You thought I didn't know?'

Again, Landers said nothing.

'I know as much about you as you know about me,' she assured him. 'Alyssa just turned thirteen, didn't she? And Laura is nine.'

Again, all that could be heard on the other end was the soft moans of agony from Mason.

'If you kill my son,' Michelle said quietly, 'I will tear your daughters apart.'

'You won't,' Landers said. 'We both know you won't.'

'You're wrong,' Michelle said instantly. 'My son is my life. If you take him from me I will destroy your daughters. I'll do it quickly – I won't make them suffer the way you're making him suffer…but I _will_ do it.'

Tony watched her. The sounds of Mason in pain had sliced through him, tortured him, sent him crazy, but the things he saw in his wife's face brought him back to reality. He had never heard her talk like this, had never seen her eyes quite this ferocious. He was particularly disturbed because he realised that this wasn't just a threat. She was sincere. He believed, beyond all doubt, that if Mason died she would find these two girls and she would kill them. He felt chilled. He felt as though the woman he'd married twice over would never have such malevolence in her, would never be able to do such an unspeakable thing. He reasoned though that he hadn't known Michelle as a mother for very long, and only now was he realising how much being a mother had changed her.

'You won't get to them,' Landers said quietly, fear evident in his voice. 'I'll make sure.'

'We're both in Toronto,' Michelle informed him. 'There's no guarantee that you'll get to them before I do. Even if you do, it won't stop me. They'll have to leave your sight sooner or later, and when they do I'll be there. I'll wait for you to take your eyes off them, just for a moment, and then I'll kill them. Give me my son, give him to me _alive_, and I'll have no cause for revenge.'

Again, nothing was said for a long time. It seemed that Landers was as convinced of Michelle's haunting promise as Tony was.

Then, without any explanation at all, he gave them an address.

'You'll find him in the car park,' he said, a sort of urgency to his voice, and ended the call.

Michelle put down the phone, realising with a breath of terror that she recognised the address.

'It's a hospital,' she told Tony. She felt her body convulse. Her fingers were shaking violently. She understood why Landers had directed them there. With her promise of revenge in mind, he had picked the place for a very good reason. He had obviously already begun to kill Mason whilst on the phone to Michelle, and now that his daughters had been brought into the equation, he needed to reverse the process and ensure that Mason lived at any cost.

'Mason's dying,' she breathed to Tony, her face stark white. 'That's why Landers is taking him to the hospital. He's leaving him there because it's his only chance.'

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><p><em> x<em>


	32. Chapter 32

Tony grabbed Michelle and hauled her to her feet. Together, they fled the apartment, left the building, and Tony bundled her into the passenger seat of the stolen SUV. He drove dangerously, he drove in a way he never had before, running red lights, swerving around cars that simply weren't moving fast enough. Night had well and truly fallen, and the streets were mercifully quiet. Michelle directed him to the hospital, shocked that her voice was working. Her body seemed to be operating on adrenaline alone, that or pure fear. She couldn't move. She couldn't blink. Her mouth was bone dry. Mason was dying.

The SUV screeched into the half full hospital car park and Tony brought it to a halt. Michelle fell out into the night air and cast around frantically. Then, from the other side of the bank of cars, she watched a black vehicle accelerate away. Suddenly, she was sprinting in its direction, her heart hammering, bile rising in her throat.

She came to the place where the black car had been sitting and swung around in the darkness, her eyes searching. Then, her gaze fell on a shadow off to the side beside a blue sedan. There was a little mass sprawled on the hard ground, and Michelle almost felt her heart stop.

'Mason!'

She ran to him, dropped to her knees, her hands moving over him. Her face felt icy, her eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of her head. He was not responsive, in fact, he looked unconscious. To be completely honest, he looked dead, but Michelle wouldn't let the thought enter her mind.

'Mason!' she cried, her hands on his little cold face. 'Mason! Wake up!'

She took his chest in her hands and then, with a jolt of horror, she realised her hands were wet. She pulled them away. They were dripping with blood. She felt a scream tear from her lips, and looked down at his chest. It was soaked through with red. In the gloomy illumination from the street lights she could see he'd been stabbed.

Suddenly, Tony was by her side, lifting Mason away from her and rushing him into the hospital. She kept up with him, feeling as though she herself was dying.

In the emergency area she could barely register what was going on. Nurses had rushed up to Tony, orders had been made, instructions flung about, and Mason was laid down on a stretcher. Michelle could just hear herself screaming. In the light, Mason's face was pale and as they cut away his sodden shirt she could see wounds, many wounds, across his torso. Blood was flooding from them. Life was draining from him.

Then he was whisked away from them into an enclosed trauma area, doctors running into to assist in stabilising him, and his parents, marked with blood, we left by the nurses desk, without drive, without purpose, without anything but hope and terror.

Michelle made it to a bin to vomit, and then felt herself collapse into a chair. Tony was with her. He looked deranged. There was blood on his shirt and his hands, and his face was rigid.

There was no one else in the small trauma waiting room, just them, a television on mute, and the soft, muffled sounds of conversation from the nurses' station. In a room across the hall Mason was being tended to. Doctors were trying to plug his many wounds, trying to staunch the flow of blood, trying to keep the life in him. Every moment they were left alone, Michelle took it as a blessing. She was terrified of the moment when a doctor would appear at the door to tell them the bad news.

She didn't know if they'd been in the room for seconds or hours. She had no concept of time at all. At one point, Tony put his jacket around her. At another, his arms. Michelle began to think. What would they do if Mason died? What did anyone do when something like that happened? Would they get back in the car and go home? Would they eat dinner? Go to sleep? How did anyone function after something that? How did anyone live?

What would they do with all his things? What would they do with his Gameboy? With his plastic plate? With his little red fishing boat in the bath or his bucket of toy soldiers? How could Michelle ever even enter the apartment again? How? He was everywhere. She wouldn't be able to go back.

She'd have to call his school and tell his teachers. She'd have to tell Jude's mother Eliza and Theo's parents. She'd have to ring work and tell them she wouldn't be coming back. She'd have to live with the fact that she'd ignored him in the last weeks of his life all because her feelings had been hurt. She had to come to terms with the fact that she hadn't even cuddled him one last time.

She'd have to make funeral arrangements. Just a small, understated thing, mostly just for her, mostly just for Tony. His friends could attend if they wanted, but they were so young and she wasn't sure their parents would think it a good idea.

Where would they bury him? Where would become the place she would go to see him for the rest of her life?

'He's going to be alright,' Tony murmured, as though he could hear her thoughts. His arms were around her again, letting her sob silently against him. She could hear it in his voice: the terrible uncertainty, the creeping sense of loss, the will to ignore the growing truth. 'We're going to be alright.'

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><p><em>X <em>


	33. Chapter 33

'Excuse me?'

Tony, who'd been staring at the floor, almost didn't notice the trauma nurse standing in the doorway. He shot to his feet.

'Yes?' he asked.

'Are you the young boy's parents?' she asked hurriedly.

'Yes,' he answered, feeling dread wash over him.

'Your son's been stabilised,' she informed him, looking stressed, 'but we're prepping him for immediate surgery. I need you to write out his details and sign this form of consent as quickly as possible.'

Tony stared at her for a moment.

'You do consent to the surgery, don't you?' she asked worriedly.

'Yes,' Tony said immediately, snatching the clipboard from her arms. 'What'd you mean stabilised him? Is he going to be alright?'

'Your son has one wound to the chest, three to the abdomen. He's sustained signification vascular trauma, several arteries have been struck, possibly severed, and he's suffered damage to the intestines and kidney. We'll be able to know more for sure after the preliminary surgery.'

'Peliminary?'

'He'll require more than one, judging by what we can see so far. Sir, I do need that form from you as quickly as possible.'

Tony grabbed the pen from her and scribbled out Mason's name, his birthday and then scrawled his signature at the bottom.

'So…so he'll be alright, won't he?' Tony asked, knowing he sounded desperate.

The nurse suddenly became uncomfortable as she took the clipboard from him, and Tony felt his stomach twist. She looked painfully sorry for him.

'We'll do our best for him,' she said noncommittally. She was already backing out of the room.

'Can we see him quickly?' Tony asked her. 'Before surgery?'

'He's not conscious,' she said, 'and time is a factor here. We need to get him into surgery right now. I'm sorry.'

She turned and hurried away. Tony watched her go, feeling rooted to the spot, his legs rigid. Vascular trauma? Severed arteries? Damage to his intestines and kidney? These were serious injuries. Too serious. These were the sorts of things people died from.

'What did she say?'

Tony turned back and looked down at Michelle. She was staring at a spot on the wall opposite her, looking catatonic, and he knew she'd registered the presence of the nurse, but not the things she'd said.

'They've taken him into surgery,' Tony told her, resuming his seat beside her. Her shoulders were curled forward, her eyes heavy with despair.

'He's alive?' she asked bleakly, as though confused.

Tony took her in his arms, drawing her close, needing to feel her against him. He pressed his face to her hair.

'Yeah,' he said into her temple. 'Yeah, Michelle, they're going to try and save him.'

'I…I need to kiss him,' she informed him, her voice monotone. 'Where is he?'

'He's gone into surgery, baby,' he said. 'You'll kiss him a bit later, alright?'

He rocked her slightly. She seemed resigned. She seemed as though her sole had parted company with her body. A state of shock like he'd never witnessed before had come over her.

Tony kept hold of her, needing the comfort of her presence, feeling his body grow tired from fear, exhausted from anxiety.

An hour passed, then another. For a while, Michelle rested against his chest. For a few minutes, he rested on her shoulder. They were both drained, both shocked, and exhaustion came on in waves.

The little waiting room was left entirely to them. Tony watched the clock on the wall. It was ten o'clock. Mason had been in surgery for three hours. Tony got his feet, started pacing. He looked at Michelle. Her eyes were closed, though she was sitting up. He reached out and ran his hand over her hair. She titled her head into his touch, her face still so pale. Then, a doctor appeared in the doorway.

'Mr and Mrs Wright?'

Michelle's eyes opened slowly. She didn't get to her feet. She seemed to know she shouldn't stand.

'Y-Yeah,' Tony said, turning to the doctor, feeling spikes of terror shoot through him. The woman was wearing scrubs and looked quite tired. She came toward them, and sat down on the bank of seats opposite.

'Your son's surgery was, for the most part, successful,' she informed him. She seemed not to know whether to speak to Michelle or not, who looked simply unstable.

Tony felt an enormous breath leave him. He felt his muscles relax. He felt jubilation course through him.

'Successful?' he asked, wondering if he was allowed to embrace the doctor in front of him.

'Well, I say that very cautiously,' she explained. 'He's not out of the woods yet, and the next forty-eight hours are crucial. I've reattached his severed arteries, but we don't know if they'll take yet or not. The work I've done is provisional; tomorrow he'll go back into surgery with a vascular specialist and myself. We've repaired the damage to his kidney. We're feeling optimistic about that, but the trauma to his intestines is causing us to worry. There were two wounds to the area, and though we've corrected much of the problem, at least enough to stabilise him, we think he'll require further surgeries. It depends on how he heals. Procedures like these, especially to that area, are prone to healing in ways that can unfortunately cause even more damage and chronic problems later on. He's lost a dangerous amount of blood and we're transfusing to him now. He needs to make it through the night first before we can make any reassessments.'

'Do you think he will?'

The doctor looked at Michelle, surprised she'd spoken.

'Honestly,' Michelle added. 'Do you think he will?'

The doctor took in a slow breath.

'I feel he has a thirty per cent chance,' she told them reluctantly.

'Is…is he conscious?' Michelle asked.

'Not yet. They've just wheeled him into ICU, in his own room. He may wake up during the night, he may not. If he does, I can't imagine it'll be for long and he won't be very lucid. We've got him on a morphine drip. The longer he's out, the more chance he'll have.'

'Where is he?' Tony asked. 'Are we allowed in?'

'Yes, you can remain with him during the night if you wish. We've placed him in the paediatric care unit, there's a bed in there for parents to stay with their children.'

She gave them directions to his room.

'You must not attempt to rouse him,' she said warningly. 'Don't disturb him and don't touch any of the equipment. Interference with ICU recovery is very dangerous. We'll check on him through the night.'

She gave them a strained, obligatory smile and turned to leave the room.

'Wait,' Michelle said. The doctor looked back. 'He's allergic to penicillin.'

The woman nodded at her and strode away. Tony pulled Michelle to her unsteady feet and they left the waiting area. They ventured down the corridor and came to an isolated room with glass panelling. Inside, buried beneath tubes, an oxygen mask and slabs of wound dressing was Mason. They entered the room, closed the door behind them and stood for a moment, looking down at their tiny son. His thin chest was bared, most of it covered in the white patches of surgical gauze. There were tubes sticking out of him. There was a drip in each wrist, a heart rate monitor on his index finger and around his upper arm, and the oxygen mask pumping loud gusts of air into him was obscuring most of his little face, so pale in colour it looked grey. There were dark, sickly shadows around his closed eyes. He was wearing a small pair of disposable hospital underwear, and a blanket was draped across his legs.

The four surgical dressings were Tony's undoing. Mason was so small, so slight, so tiny, that the dressings combined covered but inches of his torso. Four wounds were too many. Too many for one tiny boy. Tony couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't understand it. How could anyone do this?

Then, he felt livid at no one but himself. If he'd been more careful…if he'd not come back at all this would've never happened. Mason wouldn't have been dragged into this, wouldn't have been hurt at all. And now…now he might not make it through the night…all because of him.

He felt Michelle leave his side slowly. He glanced at her. Her face was unreadable as she stared at their son, hooked up to drips, pouches of blood and several machines, patched back together like a rag doll. She moved her hand toward him slowly, her fingers making contact with his fringe. She brushed it back from his face and then bent low to place a soft kiss across his ashen forehead, tears leaving her face to settle on his. She didn't care that she wasn't allowed to touch him. She had to do this. His eyes stayed firmly closed. Her lips didn't leave his skin for a long time.

Finally, Tony brought her away to sit on a peach coloured settee against the window, mere feet away from their fighting son. In the corner was a thin trundle bed with sheets folded on top, a place designated for frightened parents. There was a small mural of cartoon animals on the wall opposite his bed, and the curtains were a cheery lime green colour, something Tony noted with satisfaction. These small touches were the only things that separated the adult ICU rooms from the paediatric ones.

The machines around Mason whirred away, one beeping steadily, signalling for sure that his heart was still beating. Tony couldn't help but think of the single ultrasound he'd attended more than six years ago, when he'd heard his child's heart beating for the first time. He'd been safe then, deep inside Michelle, secure and protected.

'He looks cold,' Michelle murmured suddenly. Her eyes hadn't strayed from him. She got to her feet, left the room and got the attention of the ICU nurse.

'May I cover him?' she asked the nurse quietly. 'With a blanket? Is…is that alright?'

Apparently it wasn't. His chest was exposed for a reason. She came back, feeling redundant in a way she never had before.

'He…he looks cold,' she murmured pitifully to Tony. 'I don't want him to be cold.'

He nodded sadly, and drew her back into his arms and rocked her as she wept.

It was nearly three in the morning when Tony grabbed Michelle's hand. She moved her head from its place on his shoulder and blinked at him.

'Look,' he said suddenly.

Her head whipped around. Mason's eyes were open. She was up off the couch in an instant, perching gingerly on the edge of his bed, trying not to touch him anywhere dangerous. His gaze was unfocused. He blinked slowly, sluggishly, and squinted slightly in the light.

'Mason,' Michelle breathed desperately. She took his cold hand in her own. His face was still covered by the oxygen mask. It took a long time for his gaze to swivel slowly onto her face. He blinked again. Two tears collected gradually at the corners of his eyes and rolled simultaneously down his temples. Michelle felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. Mason looked confused, intoxicated, desperately upset and dazed. He blinked slowly again at his mother for a moment, and then drifted back off to sleep.

Michelle tried to take in a full breath. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it softly, holding it to her cheek

'I love you so much,' she told him, and let him sleep on.

Two doctors came in during the night to check him over. Michelle was sure they said things, but she was either too tired or too terrified to take it in. Then, it was dawn. Then, mid morning. Mason was still breathing. Apart from the few seconds in the middle of the night, he hadn't woken up.

The vascular doctor introduced himself and explained that Mason had to go back in for his second surgery. This one was fiddly and very involved and took a long time. He assured them though that the fact that Mason had made it this far was a good sign.

Michelle kissed him, held his hand and whispered her love to him. Tony had kissed him too, and held his little face, and together they stood in the empty ICU room, watching as he was wheeled away.

Tony looked down at her for a long moment, and placed his arm around her shoulders.

'You need rest,' he told her. She ignored him. Her head was too full to contemplate any such thing.

'M'alright,' she murmured.

'I'd go get you something to eat, but I know you won't touch it,' he said.

She shook her head, dropping down onto the chair by the bed.

'He made it through the night,' she said. 'That's…that's good.'

'Yeah,' Tony said. 'It's good.'

Michelle looked at him. He looked awful. He looked grief stricken and sick. She rubbed her forehead for a long while and then took his hand, holding it loosely. He gripped hers back.

It was nearly six hours later that Mason was wheeled back into them, looking even paler than before.

The vascular doctor told them things had gone well and that if Mason made it through the next day he had a great chance of pulling through. Now, all they needed to do was wait for him to wake up. Regaining conscious was the best possible sign.

'Don't expect it to happen quickly,' the doctor explained. 'Anytime within the next few hours is reasonable.'

Michelle felt giddy. She felt faint. Mason had a chance.

They sat together, watching him, for a long time before Michelle rose to her feet.

'I…I might go and get some sleep,' she told Tony. 'At the apartment.'

He frowned at her.

'You'll stay with him?' she asked.

'Of course,' he said.

She left the room quickly, and exited the hospital, wondering if Tony believed her lie.

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><p><em>reviews are opium x<em>


	34. Chapter 34

Three hours later, Michelle was en route back to the hospital when her phone rang.

'Are you alright?' she heard Tony ask.

'Yeah,' she responded. 'Fine.'

There was silence for a moment, and Michelle wondered if Tony knew exactly what she'd just finished doing. His silence seemed to indicate that he did.

'Mason's awake.'

'He is?' she asked, sucking in a breath, her heart inflating with joy.

'Just.'

'Has he said anything? Have the doctors re-assessed him yet?'

'They did before. They seemed more or less hopeful at this stage. He's pretty groggy. I haven't seen him yet, he's still being interviewed by a couple of cops.'

'He is? Do you…do you think we need to be worried about this?'

'I don't think so. He's going to tell them exactly what happened from his perspective, which isn't going to incriminate either of us.'

'But what about you? They could start digging. This could be bad, Tony…'

'My history suggests a deep fixation on the United States. Beyond the international alert put out when I first broke free from prison, the FBI has all but limited their search to the country. As a result, I'm not at the forefront of the minds of every cop in Canada.'

'Still, I don't like this. Have they interviewed you yet?'

'Not yet,' he said, sounding perfectly calm. 'It's under control. Just get back here. I've told them you've gone home to change.'

'Do we have a reason for not placing an emergency call last night?'

'You thought I had him, I thought you had him,' he said. 'The school can verify that. You didn't know anything was wrong until you received an anonymous call about the hospital car park, at which point you called me, realised I didn't have him, and we both came directly here. A nurse about to start her shift witnessed Mason's drop off from the black car, and she watched us find him. She's explained what she saw to the cops. They think they're looking for a couple of arbitrary child abductors who got cold feet. Mason's account will solidify that.'

'I'm not sure they'll accept that so easily…'

'They're just constables, Michelle. We were ranking federal agents for twelve years. I'm pretty certain we can play them...'

Ten minutes later, Michelle re-entered the ICU ward to find Tony in the corridor, a man in a police uniform taking notes from him.

'This is my wife, Camille,' Tony said, gesturing to her as she walked up to them. The police officer, a man of about thirty years, turned to her. 'Camille,' Tony said, the name sounding foreign on his tongue, 'this is Constable Eagan.'

'Mrs Wright, I'm sorry for inconveniencing you at such a time,' Eagan said with a slight inclination of his head. 'But I need to question you regarding your son's abduction.'

'Of course,' Michelle said, knowing she looked fatigued and grief stricken and feeling glad for it. It presented the correct front required for this sort of thing. 'My son's awake, may I see him first?'

'He's still being interviewed by my partner,' Eagan explained. 'We'd like to keep you separated for the moment. Just a formality. He's not especially lucid, but enough to give us a vague account of what took place. He's explained that two men unknown to him coaxed him away from his school and took him away. He's also explained that he was blindfolded for the duration of his abduction, and at the time of his injuries. This is extremely unfortunate as he's not able to give us many details regarding his surroundings.'

'Oh,' Michelle said, looking appropriately disturbed to hear about her son's ordeal.

'Are you alright to continue, Mrs Wright?'

'Y-Yes,' she said bravely. 'I'm fine.'

'Alright. I wondered if I could please see some ID for our records.'

As Michelle looked through her bag and found her wallet she noticed Eagan return something to Tony. Upon closer inspection, it was a Canadian driver's license, from which the cop had taken down details. She felt her eyebrows lift slightly when she noticed it read Anthony Wright. Tony slipped it back in his wallet. She wondered when he'd had it made up. Probably months ago, when he realised he'd be staying in Toronto, with Mason, with her.

She produced her own fabricated license, and watched the cop take down her details.

'When I spoke to your son I noticed he refers to you by your first name,' the cop said, frowning slightly at Tony.

Michelle cleared her throat.

'My husband and I are estranged,' she said flatly, arranging her features to look highly disdainful. 'Mason knows his father as Tony only.'

The cop seemed to gleam substantial understanding from Michelle's terse admission, just as she hoped he would.

'I see,' he said, looking slightly uncomfortable and obviously deciding that he didn't want to pry further into the fickle aspects of their marital difficulties. As he wrote down Michelle's details (or rather, Camille's details) Tony sent her an appreciative glance.

Michelle then relayed her account of what had taken place the night before, glad that Tony had called her to ensure their stories matched up. The cop made small notes as she spoke, nodding respectfully as he did.

'Is there anyone with a grudge against your family that you can think of? Any sort of vendetta? Ex-boyfriends or girlfriends? Anyone who'd like to hurt your son?'

'No,' Michelle said, looking as distraught as she possibly could once more. 'N-Nothing like that.'

'Look,' Tony said, his voice commanding, his tone inarguably sincere, 'you need to find the guys who did this. They…they could do it again. They need to be brought to justice. We nearly lost our son last night.'

'I understand, sir,' Eagan said, half dismissive, half compassionate. He'd clearly dealt with distressed parents and their demands before. 'We'll keep you updated daily.'

Eagan's partner then left Mason's room, closed the door quietly and approached them. She introduced herself to Michelle, all the while regarding her with a very sympathetic expression.

'Your son's fallen back to sleep,' she explained. 'He kept nodding off during the interview, poor little thing.'

'Did you get enough information from him?' Michelle asked hopefully.

The woman gave a small, regretful shrug.

'Enough for now,' she said. 'I'd like more, though. We'll compile a report at the station and return tomorrow for another interview, when he's a little more awake. Of course, he has mentioned to us that he was blindfolded, so we don't know how much more we'll get from him about his abductors or where they were holding him. It's highly unfortunate; it's often an account of the surroundings that help us the most.'

'Still, it's worth talking to him when's alert,' Michelle said helpfully. 'He might remember something important.'

To Michelle's enormous relief, the cops seemed entirely convinced with their charade. They gave them their best, promised to return tomorrow and left them alone. She stood with Tony in the corridor for a while after the cops had departed, feeling both triumphant and a little guilty for convincing them so easily. Then again, they were just constables. Not quite a match for two senior agents, especially not with a witness who strengthened their account and a blindfolded victim.

'You killed him, didn't you?' Tony asked after a while.

Michelle looked at him. She let out a long, tired breath. For a moment, she'd almost forgotten about what she'd done to Landers.

'Yeah,' she said. 'It's…it's over.'

'Where'd you find him?'

'I rang his receptionist, told her a couple of lies. She gave me the hotel he was staying at.'

Tony nodded.

'Security cameras?'

'Took care of it.'

The moment Michelle had discovered Landers' whereabouts she'd taken her gun and its silencer from the top shelf of her wardrobe and had gone to find him. She'd hacked into the hotel's computer network, had overridden their security cameras, and had delved into their guest records to find his room number. Then, she'd gone to his floor, knocked on his door, and the moment he'd opened it she'd put a bullet in his brain. It had been cold-blooded and gruesome, but it had been quick. She'd considered making him suffer, had adored the idea of it, but she knew it added unnecessary danger to the situation. Mason was fighting for his life at the hospital. She wasn't about to risk her own just to take her revenge, not when Mason might live, not when he might need her. To have Landers dead was enough. As he'd opened the door he'd looked into her eyes for a split second before she'd pulled the trigger. She was satisfied with the fact that he knew his life ended by her hand. The execution had been quick and quiet, and she'd closed the door and left his body in the room, feeling sorry for the cleaner who was soon going to stumble across it.

Now, she chewed her lip, feeling nothing but relief.

'Come on,' Tony said, taking her hand and tugging her back into Mason's room. She allowed herself to be pulled along, trying to come to terms with the fact that with Landers death she was no longer being pursued. She was now, more or less, free.

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><p><em>reviews=opium xx<em>


	35. Chapter 35

'Can I get you a coffee?'

Michelle glanced up. She'd been cradling her forehead in her hands. Tony watched her, looking equally as tired, equally as drained. Mason hadn't awoken apart from his brief interview with the police, and Michelle was desperate to see him conscious for herself. So far it had been two hours and he'd slept on. The doctors hadn't returned, and all Michelle knew for sure was that they were playing the waiting game. Mason's chances had improved, but they were still just that: chances.

She shrugged, wiping sleep from her eyes.

'If you're going to get one, sure,' she said gratefully. He nodded and got to his feet. He stared down at Mason for a long while, his face distraught and laden with guilt. Michelle watched him, surprised to realise she wanted to take him in her arms, wanted to tell him not to blame himself. She didn't know where they stood or what was going to happen and their last encounter before Mason's abduction kept replaying in her head.

'I'll…I'll be back in a minute,' he told her, and left the room.

Michelle got to her feet, stretching her legs, and ran a hand over her hair. She appreciated her newfound sense of security and satisfaction in knowing the man who had harmed her child was gone, but still…things with Mason were touch and go and things with Tony were the same.

'Mum?'

Michelle spun around at the tiny whispered word. Mason's shadowy little eyes were cracked open.

'Mason!' She rushed to him, sat down on the edge of his bed, feeling herself breath freely for the first time in days. Her hand went to his hair to smooth it back. His skin was clammy and cold.

'Sweetheart,' she said, tears pooling in her eyes. 'Sweetheart…you woke up.'

He blinked blearily.

'I feel funny,' he mumbled. A tear trickled from his eye.

'I know, sweetheart, I know you do. I'm…I'm so happy to see you.'

She kissed his face, wanting to take him in her arms and hold him, feeling frustrated beyond measure that she had to resist.

'I'm in hospital,' he mumbled.

'Yes, sweetheart, we're here to get you all better.'

Slowly, Mason's hand crept across the sheets to rest on her forearm, as though to ensure she really was there beside him. Michelle couldn't help it; tears were running freely down her face.

'I saw two policemen,' he told her, his words very slow and drawn out. This was a very exciting thing in his opinion, and even in his woozy state it was the first topic to be discussed. 'Except one was a lady.'

'I know,' she said, her fingers brushing across his cheek. 'They wanted to find out what happen.'

Mason nodded. His eyes closed slowly. He seemed to have fallen back to sleep for a moment.

'Sweetheart?' Michelle asked quietly.

His eyes flickered open again. He seemed to be fighting against the morphine. He tried to swallow, wincing slightly before he let out a little spluttering cough.

'They wanted to know who took me from school,' he explained, his eyelids drooping. 'They wanted to know who cut me. But I didn't know.'

'No, I know, sweetheart,' Michelle said. 'They didn't mind, they just wanted to have a talk about it.'

He let out a gurgling breath. Michelle desperately wanted to find a way to ease his discomfort.

'W-Why did they cut me?' he asked her.

'I don't know, sweetheart,' she said, rubbing his arm gently. 'I…I don't know why.'

She dearly wanted to tell him it was her fault, wanted to tell him how sorry she was that he'd been hurt so terribly because of her, but the police were returning tomorrow and she simply couldn't run the risk of giving him such sensitive information.

'I've got stuff stuck in me,' he explained to her. He raised his wrist feebly to show her his drip. 'I hate it.'

'I know, it doesn't feel nice,' she said.

He tightened his grip on her skin.

'Mum,' he said, beginning to cry quietly. 'I didn't know where you were. I wanted you…'

Michelle covered her mouth, stifling a deeply distressed sob. He watched her, looking as confused by her emotion as she was affected by his.

'I'm here now,' she told him, her voice a whisper, kissing his cheek again. 'I won't leave you. You're safe now.'

'I…I don't feel good,' he sniffed.

'You've had some big operations,' Michelle explained to him. 'You've been so brave. Brave enough, I think, to get some really nice things when we go home.'

'Really?' he asked, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly. His eyes were closed again, too heavy to keep open. 'I…I want this new game. It's …it's got… animals in it. Lions…and stuff.'

'That'll be the first thing we get,' she whispered to him, though she had no idea which game he was talking about. He grinned sleepily. 'But you have to get better first. Those are the rules. You can have whatever you want as long as you keep getting better for me.'

He nodded, looking as though he didn't quite understand how the deal worked, but not questioning it. Michelle brushed tears away from her face.

'I've missed you so much, Mason,' she told him. 'I've been so sad without you the last few weeks.'

He seemed to be temporarily asleep.

'Did he come round?'

Tony was standing at the doorway, two coffee cups in his hands. He hurriedly placed them on a side table and came to sit on the other side of Mason's bed. His gaze raked anxiously over his son, his eyes bloodshot. He took his hand. Mason's eyes fluttered open a millimetre or so. Tony's other hand went to his face, thumbing his cheek gently.

'Tony,' Mason mumbled, looking perplexed. He blinked several times. 'You're …you're back again.'

'Yeah, Mase,' Tony said hoarsely, taking his son's hand and pressing the back of it to his lips. 'Came back to see you.'

'I miss you when you leave, Tony,' Mason informed him. His tone was pressing, as though this information was urgent, and would prevent further disappearances in the future. Michelle heard Tony suck in a tormented breath.

'I know, Mason,' he said, fighting to keep his tears at bay. 'I miss you so much. Everyday.'

Mason looked from one parent to the other for a moment, taking in the fact that they were both perched on either side of his bed.

'I don't feel good,' he explained quietly, and nodded back off to sleep.

Tony and Michelle stayed where they were for several minutes, each holding one of their son's hands, watching his chest rise and fall beneath the blanket of gauze. Michelle had yet to staunch her flow of tears, and didn't try to. She brought Mason's hand to her lips to kiss him yet again.

'You understand now, don't you?' Tony said quietly after a while. His voice wasn't smug or provoking. It was just stating what he thought to be true.

'You understand how it can destroy you,' he continued, looking into Mason's tiny whitened face. 'How it can make you insane. How it can drive you to do things…things you never thought you could do.'

Michelle didn't look at him. She hadn't yet allowed herself to face the threats she'd made against Landers' two daughters. The idea to make them had come into her mind so quickly she hadn't had the time to consider if she would actually follow them through or not. It was easy to say they were just threats, especially now when she was by Mason's side, watching him recover, but what if he'd died? What if Landers had killed her little boy? It would have changed her. Sent her crazy. There was no telling what she might've done, what she'd be capable of doing.

She knew Tony was watching her, and, to her horror, she found she very much did understand. She didn't like it, in fact, she felt frightened by herself, scared of the person she might have become. She felt extremely thankful that she'd killed Landers when she had. If Mason didn't pull through in the coming days there would be no motive to kill Landers' daughters, not if he wasn't alive to suffer through the loss. They would remain safe from her.

'It's a part of who you are to want to protect him and keep him safe,' Tony said. He'd gone back to sit on one of the chairs on other side of the bed. He stared down at his clasped hands. 'When someone takes that right from you, it messes you up. Being able to protect you, Michelle, to keep you safe…that right was a part of who I was. It was taken from me. They killed the only thing I had a right to protect…it drove me crazy.'

She watched him, unable to ignore the growing empathy inside her. _Yes_, she found herself thinking. Yes, she knew now how it could drive you crazy.

'I don't need you to forgive me,' he continued. 'I've just needed you to understand. I can't go through life knowing you hate me, knowing you think I'm evil. I'm not…I just lost you…and…and now you understand.'

She met his gaze, and his eyes bore back into hers. Her hand was still entwined with their son's. She didn't know what to say, but he seemed to understand.

Mason woke up an hour later, looking lost and dazed. A nurse brought in a bowl of lukewarm potato soup, explaining that Mason needed to eat the whole thing on doctors orders before he could be allowed to go back to sleep.

'M'not hungry,' he murmured, his eyes sliding closed as his mother brought the bowl toward him. 'I don't feel good.'

'I know, sweetheart, but you've got to have some dinner. You've got nothing in your tummy.'

'M'not hungry,' he repeated.

'Water?' Tony suggested to Michelle, passing her a little cup with a straw. She took it and brought it to Mason's lips.

'Mason,' she said. He stirred. 'Have a sip, sweetheart,' she coaxed. 'You need to have some water.'

He raised his hand and pushed the cup weakly away from his face.

'Don't want to.'

Michelle stared at him, feeling her anxiety grow.

'Mason,' she said firmly. 'Remember what I said about getting some new games?'

He yawned and nodded.

'You can only have them if you have some dinner,' she said. 'Those are the rules.'

Mason looked extremely pained for a moment as he considered the ultimatum, and Michelle realised just how awful he felt when he took a long time to decide if the games were indeed worth it.

'Uh…alright,' he murmured finally, and allowed her to spoon feed him a mouthful.

'Good boy,' she said lovingly. 'Thank you, darling. Thank you.'

It took an hour to get him to eat half the portion, at which time Tony, seeing Michelle's mounting fatigue, placed a hand on her shoulder and told her he would take over. She watched him patiently feed their son for another hour from her place on the settee. She also watched when their son vomited all of it up in his sleep, and felt her heart leap into her throat when she saw blood mingled with the regurgitated soup.

Tony was already out of the room before Michelle even got her feet, in search of the closest doctor.

An hour later, Mason was back in emergency surgery, this time to once again review and repair the damage made to his intestines.

Michelle, out of her mind with despair, allowed herself to be cradled in her husband's arms as they waited, wondering if Mason was still fighting and if he could possibly survive this. At one point, she removed her face from Tony's chest and looked up into his eyes.

'I understand,' she whispered to him, her voice rough with hatred for all that happened, all that was still happening. 'You were right before. I…I can't forgive you…but I understand.'

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	36. Chapter 36

Michelle stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering. The lights in the hospital room had been dimmed for the night, and she unconsciously pulled her blanket a little higher around her shoulders, feeling rested and warm.

Mason had been returned to them after surgery, this time with a somewhat optimistic outlook from his doctors. Michelle had sat with Tony, watching Mason sleep off the anaesthesia for hours. She couldn't remember when she'd fallen asleep, or when Tony had placed her on the trundle bed, tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled the blankets around her.

Now, it was the middle of the night, and, from what she could hear as she struggled to awaken after going so long without sleep, Mason had regained consciousness. A nurse had left some yoghurt in the room, to be eaten by Mason when he finally came round. Both Tony and Michelle knew that if he could keep this food down they would allow themselves to share the optimism of the doctors. She supposed that was why she found Tony hovering beside their addled, sleepy son, determinedly keeping him focused on ingesting each and every mouthful.

'Okay,' Tony was saying quietly, obviously trying not to disturb Michelle. 'Here we go, next bite.'

She heard Mason give a muffled sound of disagreement. Tony wiped a trickle of dribbled yoghurt from his son's chin, his eyes traveling across his face.

'Mase, do you want something else? If you do you gotta tell me so I can get it.'

'N-nothing.'

'Not ice cream or anything? You could have chocolate, strawberry, whatever.'

Mason made another disgruntled sound.

'Imagine how happy mum will be to see you've eaten all this,' Tony said, his voice slightly shaky. He spoke softly in the dimly illuminated room, as though concerned about waking other patients on the floor.

Mason seemed to consider this for a few seconds.

'Mum?' he asked suddenly. 'Where…where is she?'

'Sleeping. Right there, see? I think she'll be happy to wake up and see the bowl empty. Don't you think we should make her happy?'

'Yeah,' Mason eventually said. He opened his mouth and took in the next small spoonful.

Michelle pushed the covers away from her and got to her feet. Tony looked up and watched her return to her place on the other side of the bed.

'Hi sweetheart,' she said, grateful just to see Mason's dark eyes focus on her.

'Mum,' Mason said, reaching clumsily for her hand. 'Look…I'm eating this stuff.'

'I know, sweetheart,' she said. 'I'm so proud of you.'

He nodded, as though he expected as much. Tony capitalised on the short break in conversation, slipping another spoonful into his son's mouth.

'Can we go home soon?' Mason then asked, another dribble of yoghurt sliding down his chin.

'Not yet,' Michelle told him, watching Tony dab away the spillage with his thumb and feeling her heart melt slightly at the sight. 'We're going to stay here for a while. The doctors want to make sure you're all better first.'

'But I want to go home,' he explained, his eyes filling with tears.

'Tell you what, Mase,' Tony said. 'How about I go home and get your Gameboy? And your clock and some toys? We could put them around the bed. How does that sound?'

They waited for Mason to respond, wading his way slowly through the effects of the medication. He thought this over for several moments.

'Yes,' he said finally. 'Yes, I want that stuff.'

Tony nodded. He passed the yoghurt to Michelle and turned to go. Michelle understood his need to do something, to have a purpose. Sitting around waiting to see if Mason threw up the food was agonising.

Half an hour later, Michelle looked up to see Tony back in the doorway, two bags in his hands. Mason was sleeping soundly once more.

'Did he keep it down?' was the first thing he asked, noting the now empty bowl of yoghurt on the side table.

Michelle nodded, unable to keep the jubilant smile from her lips.

'Yeah,' she said, her voice weak with joy, 'he kept it down.'

She watched him drop into his chair, looking effusively relieved. He scratched at his face, catching her eye. They gazed at each other from other sides of the room, sharing a growing sense of anticipation and hope. Mason was going to be alright.

She watched him move slightly, as though he wanted to get up and take her in his arms. She realised she wanted to kiss him, and knew he wanted to kiss her or at the very least hold her, but they both stayed in their seats. They hadn't yet talked about their last meeting before Landers had taken Mason, and it was currently standing between them like an insurmountable brick wall. In fact, things between them now felt incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Michelle didn't know how much she still meant of the things she'd said and she didn't know how much of it had changed now that their son's horrific near death experience had put things into perspective. Was he angry at her? Of course he was, she knew that. The question was how much. She knew she'd broken his heart that night, she knew had destroyed him, put him on a path to ruination. Did he think she still wanted him gone? Did _she_?

A little while later she watched Tony get up and bring one of the bags with him. He sat down on the settee, close to her, but not quite touching.

'Brought you some clothes,' he explained, his voice coarse. 'And toiletries. I'm getting the feeling you're not intent on leaving him just yet.'

She gave him a thin lipped smile, and took the bag.

'Thanks,' she said. She looked up to find him still watching her.

'What?'

He seemed to be considering himself for a moment, as though unsure of exactly what was on his mind.

'The other night, when you rang Landers – before we knew that he wasn't here for you – you were going to do it.'

'Do what?'

'Hand yourself over. You didn't even think about it…'

She looked into his eyes for a moment. He didn't break it off.

'There was nothing to think about,' she explained softly.

He nodded, and slowly raked his hand over his head, his eyes on the floor.

'I want you to know nothing's ever scared me the way that did,' he informed her, his tone strangely curbed and formal, as though he was speaking to someone he'd met only moments ago. 'I couldn't let you do it…but I couldn't let you not do it either.'

She nodded, understanding precisely what he meant. She looked through the bag, mostly because she could feel the intimacy of the moment growing, and wanted to circumvent it before it got out of control.

'He's our baby,' was all she said to him, finding no other way to express herself than that, just the way she had that terrible night.

He nodded.

'Yeah.'

She kept digging through the bag, and jumped a little when she felt his hand beneath her chin. She looked at him. He trailed his thumb over her jaw, holding her tenderly. He seemed to be searching her eyes, trying to determine if things between them were bound to get worse or better, if their terrible fight still held meaning, if she still wanted him gone.

Looking into his eyes, she suddenly felt ambushed by nerves. It felt as though she was trembling slightly, and she turned away. She sensed him nodding resignedly beside her, and felt his fingers brush tenderly against her skin. He dropped his hand.

She'd told him she understood why he'd done the things he had done and she did, to her ebbing displeasure. She knew she couldn't continue to fling his crimes at him, not now, not when she had come so close to committing crimes of her own, and so now … now there was nothing left to do except open herself to him and take him back…

She couldn't turn him away, she knew that much…but if she kissed him now, took him back now, she knew she would be inviting him – all of him – into her new life, something she hadn't done yet, not fully anyway. She wasn't sure if she was ready…if she had categorised her feelings on the subject enough to allow herself to do it. It would be an enormous step and bring about huge change to her life and to Mason's. They would gradually become a true family, a single entity for the first time…it scared her as much as it warmed her. What if she couldn't do it? What if she couldn't stand the guilt she still felt, or the fear of knowing her husband could take lives in cold blood? It would be a lie to say that Tony didn't frighten her just a little bit. His temperament had altered slightly over the course of six tragic years, and he was more aggressive now; hardened and difficult to reason with. He had less control of himself and his emotions, far less ability to act in moderation, to make calm decisions. Perhaps these traits would ease slightly if she was careful with him, if she allowed him to let go of his pain and embrace a more peaceable life. It would take a long time, and until then she knew she wouldn't always be able to know what to expect.

'I…I might get changed,' she said, leaving his side.

Tony nodded and watched her go into the bathroom, allowing himself to feel hopeful because anything else hurt too much.

He leaned back against the settee, looking over at Mason. He was going to be alright. He had kept his food down, his vascular surgery had been successful, his cheeks were regaining colour. He was going to be alright. As he looked over him, Tony realised he wanted to give his son everything. He wanted to buy him every silly toy and game and gizmo he'd ever desired in his six years of life. Anything that made him happy, that made him smile. Every possibly opportunity and chance a child could have. Tony knew they were going to indulge Mason terribly in the coming weeks as he recovered, but he also knew that they wouldn't be able to help themselves. Michelle was right. Mason was their baby, their child. He was the living, breathing result of Tony's love for his wife. Mason encapsulated the way they had been, the way Tony wanted them to be once more, and Tony was sure he'd never looked upon a more perfect child in his life, bias be damned.

All the things Michelle had said to him the night of their last fight rang true for him as well. She had clung to their son as a baby, had adored him as a toddler, treasured him as a child because he was the consummate representation of them, the way Tony felt for her, the hungry, infatuated haze that had been their precious time together. When Tony looked at Mason he saw Michelle. He saw her in the moment he'd first met her, the moment she'd looked up at him with bashful, uncertain eyes and explained that she wanted to be more than colleagues, the moment she'd locked her lips with his and changed him in ways that had made his head spin. He saw their old passion, their once fierce devotion, the fun they used to have in his apartment, the one he'd convinced her to move into barely two months into their relationship. He saw all the things he had clung to during his time in prison for treason, the things he agonised over during their subsequent divorce, the things he revelled in when he got her back. He saw all the things he'd mourned and desperately craved once she'd been blasted away from him.

But now, their relationship had taken a human form, and Tony felt overwhelmed by it. Mason needed to be protected. He _was_ their baby. He shouldn't have been dragged into their past, shouldn't have been hurt so brutally because of them. Now, all they could do was help him, watch him heal, assist him as he came back together again, and if gifts and treats and allowances were going to make him feel better, then they were more than warranted.

Tony looked over at the bathroom Michelle had disappeared into. He too wanted to do things for her, things to show her how much he treasured her, how desperately he wanted things between them to solidify, to repair. He felt certain there was another chance to be had. Of course, he also knew he couldn't manufacture it, or draw her into it. She had told him she understood. She didn't forgive him, but she didn't have to. Their relationship could reignite and survive on understanding. That would be enough. He knew things had to be on her terms and in her time. That was fine. More than fine, really. He just knew it was the uncertainty, the waiting, that was going to kill him. Of course…she might decide against it. That was still a possibility…it just wasn't one he could allow himself to entertain. That would kill him for sure. She was the end of the line for him. There was nothing beyond her, nothing past her.

He watched her return from the bathroom, dressed in the softest pair of jeans he could find in her room and a warm jumper. She'd washed her face and combed her hair and he felt a sharp jab of pleasure collide with his chest when she curled up next to him on the settee, her eyes moving across his face.

'You're beautiful,' he said quietly, without entirely meaning to, turning toward her, longing for her to move closer, just a little, so he would at least know to take her in his arms or not.

She suppressed a rueful smile. The way the compliment had flown off his tongue so easily brought back a million happier days, when he used to say that exact thing to her for no reason at all, just for something to say.

'You're tired,' she returned, looking at him. 'You should go get cleaned up and changed.'

He shrugged. He knew he needed a shower and a new set of clothes, but he didn't want to part company with either her or Mason unless he had to, unless it was for them somehow.

'I'm fine here,' he said dismissively.

'Go on,' she said. 'We can watch him in shifts. You know I'll call you if anything changes.'

He tapped his heel on the ground for a moment, looking reluctant.

'Go,' she again, her voice deliciously warm to his ears. 'Go back and sleep for a bit. I'm not going to leave him.'

'I know,' he said. He eyed her a moment. She blinked, looking like a vision to him despite her tired face and less than glamorous clothing. He felt his breathe catch slightly when he found concern somewhere in her eyes and realised it was for him. She wanted him to feel better, wanted him taken care of as well. He realised she wanted to hide her sentiment, or make it somehow less evident to him, but for one reason or another she didn't, possibly couldn't. Not tonight, anyway. He felt his heart slice open at her expression. It was enough to conjure optimism within him. They had a chance.

He suddenly took her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist. He kept his lips there, against her pulse, for a long time. The scent of her skin under his nose made him dizzy. He knew she'd rather he hadn't done it, and let go when he felt her shift uncomfortably.

'I'll be back soon,' he eventually promised. She nodded, giving him a strange look of mingled unity, warmth and uncertainty. Tony strode from the ward, feeling hope burgeon inside him.

* * *

><p>xx<p> 


	37. Chapter 37

Eight days later, Mason was released from hospital. His surgeries had been successful, and as far as his doctors could tell he would need no more, provided everything continued to heal as planned. The police had returned to interview him in more detail, but to his parents' resonating relief, he had nothing more significant to divulge to them than he had the first time.

The hospital room had been coated with his things, and Michelle had spent every night sleeping by his side. Tony would have alternated with her, but they both knew Mason wanted his mother close by. Days had been whiled away playing board games with him, eating their food together, keeping his spirits up while he lay immobile in his bed. Nearly every day his pain became too much and he was administered morphine, and Michelle looked on helplessly as his sobs subsided and the agony in his face eased with each injection, dazed and sleepy for the rest of the day. His doctors had explained that there was going to be substantial pain for a long time as his little body repaired, and that painkillers were going to become a daily necessity once he left the hospital.

Now, it was early in the evening as Tony held the apartment door open for Michelle, Mason held carefully in her arms. His stiches had yet to be removed and he hadn't been strong enough at the hospital to leave his bed and walk around, leaving his legs weak and wobbly. Nonetheless, he was so delighted to be away from the place where he was susceptible to being jabbed with needles every few hours that his parents found themselves sharing in his mood. It was only now that they were properly accepting the fact that they still had their son, and he was going to be alright. Michelle hadn't smiled so much in a very long time.

'When can I go to school?' he asked her, playing with a curl by her ear.

'Soon sweetheart, I promise.'

'But when?'

'Next week, maybe.'

Tony closed the door behind them and watched Michelle very gently deposit their child on the couch. She propped him up with pillows, and slowly manipulated his body so that his torso was flying flat and straight.

'Stay there, Mason – stay!' she said, when he tried to get back up. He was looking happily around the apartment. 'You can't run around yet, alright?'

'I don't want to,' he said sleepily. 'Just want to go do stuff.'

'No, not yet,' she said anxiously. 'You have to stay lying down for a few more days. Now look,' she said, reaching for the remote. 'Garfield's on. And here.' She pulled his Gameboy from one of the bags Tony had brought in. 'I'll leave this here as well. Now, Tony's going to make some dinner just for you, and then maybe some ice cream, but not if you move around, alright? Those are the rules.'

'There are so many rules when you get cut,' he said in a huff. 'It's the worst.'

'I know,' she said, kissing the top of his head and tickling his cheek. 'You'll be better soon, and then all the rules will go away.'

He blew a raspberry and fixated on the TV, looking frail and thin. The couch had never looked so big beneath him. Michelle went into the kitchen to get him some water, and found Tony making cheesy mashed potato. Mason was still mostly on a diet of soft, easy-to-digest substances, something that added to his frustrations. He'd had more soup and jelly than he could bear.

Tony looked up when he sensed her beside him, and she caught his eye. For two people who hadn't really left each other's side other than to sleep, they had shared an altogether stunning lack of conversation. During the day, they had been with Mason in his room, entertaining him, and by night they separated to sleep. In fact, Michelle had barely spoken to Tony without their son an active participant in the conversation, and neither was really sure where they stood. All they both knew was that things between them had been amicable, almost pleasant, as they shared the strain of helping Mason recover.

Now, Tony looked over his wife, taking in her tired eyes, her tense shoulders. He was glad she was back in the apartment, back to sleeping in her own home. Staying by Mason's side as she worried incessantly over him had worn her thin.

He watched her open a high cupboard and feel around for one of Mason's plastic cups. She stretched up to find it, and he stopped what he was doing.

'Here,' he said softly.

Michelle watched as he grabbed the cup for her, his hand going subconsciously to her waist to still her, to stop her from reaching. He passed the thing into her hands and moved away. Michelle blinked at him for a moment. He had touched her in such a casual way that it had shocked her. He had not touched her quite so nonchalantly before.

'Thanks,' she murmured. He seemed to sense her awareness of him and glanced at her. He gave her an apologetic look. They were taking things slow. That much was at least clear between them.

'Mum,' Mason called, his voice choked. 'I-I'm hurting.'

Michelle looked over at him. She could see sweat beading on his forehead. His last dose of painkillers had obviously just worn off. Tony rummaged around in a plastic bag on the counter and handed her a packet of the pills, which she dissolved into the glass of water.

'M-Mum,' Mason called, crying now.

'Here sweetheart,' Michelle said, taking the glass to him. Tears were rolling down his face. 'Drink this down.'

He did, and when he was done his fingers clawed against her skin. The pills didn't take effect immediately, and his pain was growing. He reached for her, sobbing slightly, and she felt dismayed.

'Come here,' she said softly, replacing the pillows beneath his head with her lap, partially cradling him. He buried his face into her stomach as he clung to her.

'It hurts,' he said, taking in a hindered breath. 'Mum, it really hurts.'

She made little circles against his back with her fingers, hoping to soothe him slightly. His tears seemed to stop after a few minutes and Michelle relaxed against the back of the couch, rocking him slightly.

She realised Tony was watching her, stationary in the kitchen, his face weighed down as though he was feeling his son's pain. He continued to survey Michelle as she brought comfort to their child, looking both helpless and adoring of her maternal abilities. She gave him a slight smile, rubbing Mason's back and drawing her finger across his cheek. Finally, Mason seemed to breathe easily once more.

'Mum,' he sniffed sadly. 'Make it go away. Please Mum.'

She kissed his forehead, rocking back and forth.

'It'll go away soon, Mason,' she whispered. 'You've been so brave. I love you so much.'

'Love you too,' he mumbled into her shirt, sniffing as he did. She tightened her grip on him slightly. His weight against her felt so right, so unbelievably comforting, and even now she could feel herself slowly coming back together after so many weeks of despondency.

She watched Tony emerge from the kitchen with Mason's plastic plate in hand. He came to sit on the end of the couch, looking over his wife and child.

'Dinner, Mase,' he said, patting his son's leg. He watched Mason stretch out so that his feet were resting in his lap. He was now splayed across both his parents, and they watched him, suddenly finding difficulty in drawing their next breath.

'Okay,' he muttered after a while, and allowed Michelle to sit him up against her. He fed himself, watching the TV between bites. It wasn't long before the painkillers lulled him to sleep in his mother's lap, and she rubbed his shoulders to relax him. She watched Tony shift closer, so that their son's legs were draped across his lap. He looked down into his face.

'He's got your eyes,' he said after a moment. Michelle looked at him.

'He's got nothing of me,' she said, though, Tony noted, she didn't seem disappointed by this fact.

'He _has_ got a lot of me,' Tony conceded. 'But the eyes are yours.'

'I don't see it,' she protested.

'Look, the shape, here,' he said, touching the corner of Mason's closed eyelid. Michelle gently swatted his hand away.

'Don't disturb him,' she admonished, though she seemed to be looking closely at their son. 'Maybe a little. Just in the shape.'

'I'm glad,' he told her gruffly. 'When we found out about him I hoped he would have your eyes.'

They looked at each other for a moment, their son sprawled across them.

'I was scared, you know,' she said quietly.

He frowned at her.

'When?'

'When we found out I was pregnant. During the months before the car bomb.'

'No, you weren't,' he said, his eyes narrowed. 'You were happy. We were excited.'

'I was,' she said, gazing at Mason. 'But I was scared too. I was anxious about it. I…I didn't know what sort of a mother I would make…if I could do it. If I would disappoint you…or him.'

'Michelle…'

She nodded, knowing her fears had been spectacularly disproved six years down the track.

'Seems ridiculous now,' she said. 'But I was terrified.'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

She shrugged.

'I didn't want you to think I had misgivings.'

He kept his gaze on her for a moment.

'Did you?'

She ran a hand through Mason's hair.

'Not really,' she said. 'I panicked for a few days. I felt a little locked in, or something. I didn't wish against it, but I was worried.'

Tony's hand went to cradle one of Mason's tiny feet.

'You should've said something to me,' he said. 'You shouldn't have been keeping things like that to yourself.'

'I was going to,' she said honestly. 'But then I woke up in a compound and met Landers. Didn't exactly get the chance.'

She twisted one of Mason's curls around her middle finger.

'I don't remember much of that morning. I can't remember what we had for breakfast, or what I was wearing, or what we were meant to be doing that day. I remember getting ready for a meeting or something along those lines but I figure we had different plans, because they'd told me you'd been killed by a lethal injection at CTU and not by the bomb in the car.'

'You don't remember anything?' Tony asked.

'I know President Palmer was killed…I think I remember watching a news story on it, though I possibly invented the memory because I watched coverage of it later. The last thing I remember completely was the night before that. We had leftovers for dinner and worked on a presentation. For some reason I remember you doing something to my hair…that's when it gets hazy.'

'I was trying to plait it,' he told her. 'Your hair. I was just trying to bug you as we were working.'

'Oh,' she said, her brow furrowed. Tony swallowed. It wasn't easy for him to contemplate his memories of those dreadful last moments with her, but he had the feeling Michelle wanted the blanks filled in.

'We went to bed after that,' Tony told her quietly. 'We made love.'

He watched her chew her lip, looking slightly uncomfortable.

'We woke up and did it again. We showered, got dressed, I went out to put on the coffee, you did your makeup. We had to make our presentation that morning. Then the story about Palmer came on the news, and I called you into the kitchen. You watched it for about five seconds and then you went to call Bill.'

She blinked.

'Did I want to go to CTU?' she asked. 'To help out there?'

Tony nodded.

'I didn't want you to go.'

She cast him a quick sidelong glance.

'You didn't? Why not?'

He shrugged.

'We were doing well, you know. The business was growing, we were going to have a family, you were safe, we were together…I didn't know how or why it had turned out so perfectly, but it had. CTU had a way of messing with things like that. I just didn't want you back there.'

'Did you get me to change my mind?'

He looked at her incredulously before fixing her with a very small smile.

'Do you think I did?'

She swallowed.

'You're the only one who could…so maybe. Yes?'

'No,' he said. 'You told me to go give the presentation alone. You kissed me goodbye and left. You were wearing some pink thing,' he added. 'You looked beautiful.'

Her eyebrows were knitted together.

'Were you hurt in the bomb?'

'Not initially. The blast blew out our windows. I went out to find you…' his voice trailed off, his words sticking in his throat. 'You were lying in our yard, there was a car door on top of you. You…you looked so hurt and you were so limp when I got to you. I held you for a few seconds…I tried to find a pulse…then the gas tank exploded and I blacked out.'

For a long moment, Michelle considered the morning from Tony's perspective. She wondered how it would have felt for her to see him, lying motionless, and to not be able to find his heartbeat.

'That…that sounds awful,' she said softly. He was staring very hard at the coffee table, his eyes haunted.

'I found out you were dead a few hours later at CTU. Until then…I couldn't admit it to myself…I mean…we'd made love in our bed only a couple hours before. We'd showered together, we'd been laughing together…it was any other day…I couldn't believe you were gone…that you'd been taken so easily.'

It was then that Mason stirred slightly in their grip, their voices disturbing him. Michelle cleared her throat.

'I'll put to bed,' she murmured, and took him into his room.

A minute later she returned to find Tony exactly where she'd left him. She didn't mind, in fact, she was almost glad that he was still there. She slowly returned to her seat beside him, drawing her knees to her chest, watching him.

'You okay?' she asked softly. He was still gazing at the coffee table. He scratched his face.

'Fine,' he said. She knew it was a lie, but she didn't prod.

'You know,' Tony said, 'the night I arrived in Toronto I was waiting outside in my car, watching for you.'

'You were?'

'Yeah,' he said, looking less anguished now. 'I didn't know what to expect. I was going out of my mind just wondering if it was the night I'd get to see you again. And I did…it just about killed me, seeing you walk up the street…and then I saw Mase with you.'

'Bet that was a shock,' she said.

They shared an almost humorous look.

'I thought he was some other man's,' Tony confided. 'I didn't know how old he was, or how a baby could've survived the things you went through. I thought you'd remarried or something.'

Michelle gave him a deeply sceptical look.

'Honestly?' she asked, her voice affronted. 'You think I would have?'

He shrugged. 'I wasn't angry. Well, actually I was furious…but not at you. Six years…that's a long time to be alone. It seemed pretty likely, and you don't exactly escape male attention...'

Michelle tilted her head to the side. She wondered if he was trying to ask her something.

'I've haven't been with anyone else,' she said. 'If that's what you're getting at.'

He looked at her.

'It wasn't,' he said. 'But that's…nice to know, I guess.'

She gave him a half annoyed, half amused look.

'You really thought I'd shacked up with someone else?' she asked. 'Had Mason to another man? What is wrong with you? Did you even look at him outside? Or did you just jump to conclusions and get yourself worked up? I have a feeling it was the latter.'

'You were across the street,' Tony said with a sheepish shrug. 'I couldn't get a good look at him.'

'Mmhmm,' she said, looking as though she was enjoying herself. 'I can just imagine you fuming in the car, making angry assumptions. Getting yourself into a state. And what, exactly, were you going to do if I had, hmm?'

He watched her, suddenly realising she was teasing him. His heart sped up slightly. Teasing was a good sign. A great sign, really. She'd teased him all the time when they were married, had flirted with him and made cute little jokes at his expense... she wouldn't be doing this if still wanted him gone, still despised him. He blinked then, and realised she was still talking.

'Were you going to storm in here? Declare to me that you were still alive, that you had arrived to reclaim me?' She shook her head at him. 'I bet you had a whole list of things ready to say and do to my new husband.'

'I had a few things in mind,' he admitted. He felt halfway stunned watching her. He hadn't seen her looking this amused before. Hell, she even made a small sound not unlike a giggle. It seemed to attack him, seemed to disarm him.

'Oh, I'm sure,' she said. 'What was the plan? Going to cart me off? Leave the kid with this father and take me away? I'm sure you would've felt it was well within your rights to.'

He gave her a strained half smile.

'Maybe,' he said, marvelling at how well she knew him and his thought processes. He wanted to draw her into his lap, wanted to tickle her, wanted to blow hot, airy kisses across her skin. They were having fun. 'Actually…I just wanted to see you. I just wanted to know you were alright. I wouldn't have interfered –'

'Oh, no?'

'I just wanted to touch you,' he said, ignoring her. 'I would have kissed you no matter what, I won't deny that, but I wouldn't have done anything more.'

She shook her head at him once again.

'I don't accept that for a minute,' she said, her mouth twitching. 'I guess you're just lucky I hadn't taken up with someone else.'

He grinned then.

'Guess so. Then again, after me, anyone else would've been underwhelming.'

She glared at him.

'There was a little more to it than that,' she said snootily, the twinkle still in her eye. 'I missed you too much to want to be with anyone else, even knowing you were dead.'

He nodded at her.

'I missed you too much too,' he said, his hand on her thigh. He wondered when it had settled there. He adored the sight. He looked back up, startled to find that her expression had turned sharp.

'But not enough to refuse Cara Bowden?' she said bluntly.

All in an instant, the joking mood vanished. The sparkle in her eye had died out. They stared at each other. Michelle didn't blink for a long time, and crossed one leg over the other, his hand falling from its place atop her thigh.

'You know about that?' he asked.

She gave a small nod.

'I know about that,' she confirmed.

The air between them was impenetrably tense.

'I had to,' he said. His voice wasn't desperate, or guilty. He had nothing to hide when it came to the Bowden girl. He had shamelessly used her, had played her like a musical instrument to get close to Alan Wilson. There was nothing more to it, not from his side, anyway.

'She loved you,' Michelle said.

Tony looked at her, his expression highly ungracious.

'How in hell do you know that?' he asked.

'Your relationship was detailed in the debrief I read. She wouldn't have brought you so close to Wilson so quickly unless she did.'

'What about it?' he asked, suddenly feeling annoyed. 'What does it matter?'

'You shouldn't have killed her.'

'She was a conduit for contractors, Michelle. She was a terrorist.'

'Still, she was in love with you. You just used her.'

'I had to. I had to use whatever resources came my way.'

'I felt sorry for her. I still do.'

'Don't. She wasn't a good person.'

'Neither are you, and yet you're not about to be murdered by the person you love. Imagine what that would have felt like.'

Tony realised he was glaring at her. The way she had coldly informed him that he wasn't a good person had irked him. It had torn at him, really. Did she think he'd forgotten? Did she think he needed reminding?

'She was nothing to me,' he said flatly.

'I know that,' she said, looking unruffled. 'That's not the bit that bothers me.'

They watched each other for a moment. The mood between them was stale and irate.

'I'm going,' he said brusquely.

'Yeah,' she agreed, turning from him. He could tell she was no longer even close to being in the mood to indulge him, or stay with him, and neither was he. She'd managed to go from delighting him to infuriating him in record time. She slipped off the couch and walked to her room. Watching her go, Tony felt, for the first time ever, remorse for Cara Bowden. Being wounded and rejected by the person you loved was heartbreaking on millions of levels. He should know.

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are opium<em>


	38. Chapter 38

A week later, Michelle awoke in the middle of the night. She pressed her face into her pillow, feeling warm and wonderfully comfortable, and wondered why she'd woken. She looked hazily at the clock. It was just past two in the morning. She rubbed her eyes, yawning and stretching out beneath her thick doona.

She blinked tiredly up at the dark ceiling, listening hard to see if Mason called out for her, thinking that was perhaps what had disturbed her in the first place. He had begun sleeping straight through the nights now, his pain subsiding more and more every day. His stitches had been removed, and he'd been gaining strength, enough at least to see him running through the apartment and begging to go back to school. His wounds were healing well, and provided they were covered and he was careful, she couldn't justify keeping him at home for much longer. It was only earlier that evening that she'd told him he could return tomorrow, and he'd jumped into the air in celebration.

It had been the first thing he'd told Tony when he'd arrived back from the supermarket to make dinner, and he'd rambled on about nothing else since. Tony had listened attentively to him, but Michelle had sensed a strange feeling in him as he did. He looked almost disappointed that Mason was returning to his classes and his friends. During his week at home, Tony had been his primary entertainer, and Michelle his primary carer. She'd taken all her holiday leave from work to stay with him, and Tony was obviously doing his work at night so he could be present during the day. They had been operating day in and day out as a family and she knew he would miss it when Mason left them for school.

The mood between them over the days following their discussion concerning Cara Bowden had been tense and it hadn't yet improved. Michelle, to her utmost discomfort and surprise, was feeling slightly ashamed.

She hadn't meant to bring up the subject of Cara Bowden. It had slipped out of her mouth almost without her realising it. They had been joking with each other one moment, and then the next Tony had said something that sparked a very odd reaction in Michelle, one she hadn't felt in a very long time, or expected to feel again. Jealousy. Proper jealousy.

She had felt it surface within her when she had wondered if Tony was, in a round-a-bout way, trying to ask if she'd been with anyone else during their time apart. She knew _he_ had been with someone else, and the small reminder had made her twinge with irritation. Then she'd felt annoyed by it. There was no cause for jealousy. She knew his relationship with the woman had been manipulative. She also knew Tony had no right to make her feel such insanely inappropriate things…but he did. She couldn't deny it, or ignore it, and it wreaked a modest amount of havoc within her.

This, coupled with the fact that they'd almost been laughing together, had caused her to bring the woman up and fling her in his face. A part of her felt that laughing with him was deplorable. They could be together, they could take comfort from one another, but laughing? Laughing made her feel wretched. How could she laugh with him, knowing all that he'd done because of her? It felt perverse. It felt like spitting on the graves of all who'd died in Washington. It felt sinister to her, and these things caused her to rebel against him, to say things that hurt him enough to have him withdraw from her, to push him away. She knew it destroyed him, but she knew no other way to deal with her guilt…and now here she was, lying awake in bed, feeling guilty for an entirely different reason.

'You're awake.'

Michelle gasped loudly, and sat bolt upright in bed, her heart feeling as though it had just exploded in her chest. She clutched the covers around her, breathing hard. In the corner by the wardrobe, sitting on the low chair she used to fling her towel across, was Tony. She squinted at him in the dark, trying to get her heart rate under control.

'Tony,' she rasped, shock heightening her voice. She fell back against the pillows, feeling immensely shaken. 'How...how long have you been there? You scared the hell out of me!'

She looked over at him. He was hunched forward in the chair, his face exhausted, his eyes dark and demented. She sat up again, taking him in once more.

'Are you alright?' she asked gently. She knew instantly that he wasn't.

'Fine,' he muttered. He was watching her through the gloom. She surveyed him back.

'So … so then why are you sitting in my room at two in the morning, watching me?'

He leaned back slightly, not even bothering to look caught out.

'Couldn't sleep,' he said.

'So you came here?'

He nodded. 'Seemed like the right choice.'

Michelle brushed her hair from her eyes.

'Has something happened? Is something wrong?'

She couldn't help but feel incredibly concerned. He didn't look the way he normally did. He seemed broken almost, at the end of his tether.

'I have dreams, Michelle,' he confided stoically to her. 'Makes it occasionally hard to sleep. That's all.'

If Michelle hadn't gotten her guilt quota for the day, she was getting it now. Who knew what demons lurked in his dreams at night? Who know what sort of tragic things he relived in the dark? She didn't, for a moment, imagine that his dreamland was a pleasant, or even tolerable, place to inhabit.

'I wouldn't have let you kill those girls,' he said unexpectedly, his voice chilling. 'I wouldn't have. I …I couldn't let you destroy yourself like that.'

Michelle studied him uncertainly for a long moment, and suddenly realised that no matter what she ever did to punish him, it would be nothing compared to the ways he could punish himself. She felt terribly lost as she watched him, terribly sad that the man she'd once known to be untainted, strong and whole was now but a shadow of himself.

'Come here,' she said very quietly.

He raised his head, looking questioningly at her.

'What?'

'Come here,' she repeated. She pulled the covers back slightly.

He shook his head.

'I don't want your sympathy,' he said angrily. 'I didn't come here for that. I didn't even expect you to wake up.'

'You have to stop doing these creepy things,' she said patiently. 'I don't like it.'

He shrugged. 'You've never woken up before.'

She raised her hand to her face, rubbing her forehead helplessly.

'How often do you sit there when I'm asleep?' she asked, her teeth clenched. He didn't answer her. She combed her memory, trying to remember how often her towel had changed positions during the night.

'Tony,' she said warningly.

'Not often,' he promised.

She took a deep breath, and settled back on her pillows.

'Come here,' she said for a third time.

Tony seemed to take a good five minutes to decide if he was going to accept her offer and she was quite surprised to finally feel the mattress shift beneath his weight, to watch him draw his shirt off in the moonlight, and strip down to his boxers.

'You sure?' he asked her.

Feeling half asleep, she nodded. 'Yeah,' she said tiredly. 'Come on.'

He slipped between the sheets, his head on the pillow that had never been occupied before. Now, looking at his dark head there, she realised it had almost been waiting for him all this time. She rolled her eyes at herself for being so sentimental, and started slightly when she felt his hand touch hers beneath her own pillow.

'You gonna change your mind in an hour and kick me out?' he asked warily.

She yawned and stretched out again.

'Shhh,' she said, assuaging his fears, repositioning herself to get back to sleep. Then, she felt his hand wrap around her wrist to draw her closer. She wanted to resist, but the comfort of curling up against him was far too tempting. His body was already warming the bed for her, and…it had been six years since they'd fallen asleep together, wrapped up in each other.

She sighed, and allowed herself to shift closer, knowing he needed the contact, knowing she craved it. She heard him draw in a quick breath, and felt his arms snake around her. His hand slipped up under her top to rest against the bare skin of her back. He pressed her in further, and she settled her face against his shoulder, her hand going to gently caress his neck. She breathed against him, knowing he delighted in the sensation, his fingers making tiny, loving patterns across her naked spine. He pressed a fleeting kiss to her forehead, his mouth going back to its place against her temple. So much of his bare skin was melded into hers, and, she realised, it was nothing short of the most exquisite feeling of her life.

'I…I've missed this,' she told him, hearing her emotion spill out alongside her voice. His arms tightened around her at her admission, holding her firm, holding her safe. Her stomach was touching his, her arms woven around him, her breasts against his chest, her face in the crook of his neck.

'This is all I want,' he explained to her, his voice a slow, rough whisper in her hair. 'Nothing more than this. For the rest of my life.'

She bit back a small exhausted sob and slipped her legs between his, holding him to her, never wanting him to let go.

'Night,' she murmured in his ear. She waited for him to respond, only to find he'd already drifted off to sleep in her arms.

_xx_


	39. Chapter 39

It was seven in the morning when Michelle awoke again. Tony's feet were tangled with hers as he lay on his stomach, the muscles in his back relaxed, his hand resting covetously on her thigh as he slept. He had held her against him for most of the night, had drawn her back in if she'd rolled away in her sleep, and she had to admit that she'd not felt quite so connected to him before. He hadn't initiated sex, hadn't even seemed to want it. He just wanted to be close, to be sharing the same bed, to be next to her in his moment of need. She hoped he'd slept alright. He'd been looking horrendously tired, and to hear that he had suffered dreadful dreams had tugged at her heart. Comfort had been her primary objective when she'd beckoned him to her, and she hoped he'd found some.

Now, the sun was peeking in through the curtains, his skin a tantalising golden brown against her pale sheets. Michelle found herself reaching toward him, allowed her hand to rest on his shoulder, to caress his skin slightly. She had to admit that she liked seeing him in her bed, occupying the other half. It thrilled her. To be completely honest, it aroused her.

She sighed, watching him sleep, feeling torn and annoyed at herself. She needed to stop pulling away from him, needed to stop shoving him back, especially if she couldn't do it properly, which, she'd come to realise, she couldn't. Whenever things between them improved she had a knack of pulling the plug, of setting them back because her fear managed to get the better of her. It wasn't fair to him or to her and now, especially after the unavoidable fact that she was as capable of terrible revenge as he was, there was no real way she could justify herself. Plus…she couldn't deny she missed him, desired him, even. She couldn't ignore it, or push it away. It was always there. She loved him, very much, all the time. It was an uncomfortable truth, but a truth nonetheless. When he'd come back into her life she had wanted to hate him forever, and somehow she'd ended up loving him desperately once again.

Watching him pander to Mason, watching him feed him and carry him around during his recovery period had made her long for him, long for them to become a proper family. There were only so many things she could do to stop it from happening, and none of them worked anyway. She was running out of ways to keep them all apart. It scared her. Of course it did. She was stalling now, too frightened to back away, too frightening to step forward, but she knew she couldn't stall forever. The time had come for definitive action. She just had to be brave enough…

She needed to do something, some sort of gesture, to explain herself to him. He was tiring of her inability to embrace him, growing weary and depressed from what he probably perceived to be her idea of games, she knew that…she could even lose him because of it. The notion felt like ice inside her. She loved him too much.

She felt him stir beside her, felt his hands reach out to tug her closer.

'Hey,' he murmured, his fingers locking with hers, one arm slipping around her waist.

'Hey,' she whispered, gazing at him, wondering how to communicate to him that she was ready, that she really did love him. She felt nervous. Nervous but sure.

He looked at her.

'You didn't kick me out,' he said, his eyes narrowed. This seemed to shock him.

'No,' she said. 'I … I wanted you to stay.'

He appraised her almost suspiciously for a long moment. Michelle felt the air buzz between them, felt keenly aware of him, half naked beside her. She realised she wanted him badly. She had always wanted him badly.

'What are you saying here?' he asked, looking guarded. 'Am I allowed to stay tonight as well? Tomorrow night?'

She heard herself sigh again, not quite able to grant him his desires out loud, not yet at least. Instead, she cupped the back of his neck and slowly drew him in to kiss her. He hadn't expected this at all, and seemed to freeze up in her grip. Then, he groaned softly, cupped her face and teased her lips open, his tongue delving deeply to find hers. She gave a sensual sigh as their tongues duelled tenderly, and she shifted so that more of her body was pressed up against his.

'Michelle,' he breathed ravenously into her skin. 'Michelle, c'mere.'

Suddenly, she was beneath him, and he was staring down at her, pushing her hair from her face, his fingers tracing her cheeks. His eyes scorched hers as her hands grasped at his back.

'Waking up here with you…' he began.

She nodded, running her fingers through his hair.

'Felt right,' she finished, her voice less than whisper. 'Tony, I'm sorry,' she blurted out suddenly. Her arms tightened around his neck as she gazed into the face she knew so well. She needed to explain herself to him, to apologise for giving him hope and then ripping it away so heartlessly. 'I'm sorry for hurting you…I'm just scared.'

He kissed her face softly, his lips on her cheeks, on her brow, on each of her closed eyes.

'I know,' he said sincerely, rubbing his nose against hers, his fingers resting on her delicate jaw. 'I understand. One day it'll be alright, sweetheart. One day, things between us will be almost good again. I know it will be…but I also know it's going to take time. We've got to be patient with each other or it's never going to happen.'

She nodded, amazed at the gift he'd just given her. It seemed he'd looked into her eyes and had understood her very soul, had gleamed all the trepidation and longing and love inside her, all the inconsistency and guilt and desire, and had rewarded her with the promise of persistence, of solidarity. He wasn't going to leave her. They were in this together.

He claimed her lips again, tasting her, devouring her, and he pulled away to nibble on the spot where her neck and shoulder met. She gasped, just loud enough for him to know what he was doing to her and he chuckled huskily in return, giving her a sharp little nip with his teeth and healing the sting with a moist kiss.

'I want you out of this,' he informed her, his voice ragged as he fingered the strap of her camisole. His weight was resting on her, his legs still wrapped up in hers. 'I wanted you out of it last night, wanted to sleep with nothing between us…like old times.'

'Would we have slept though?' she asked, her fingernails scratching lightly down his stubbly face. She sucked on his lip for a moment and breathed him in. He smelled musky, potent and richly masculine. It turned her on immeasurably. It always had. She wriggled slightly beneath him, enjoying the feel of him. He growled at her movement.

'No,' he said, and kissed her hard, his hands on her sides, his thumbs grazing her breasts. She breathed a small sound of delight, and kissed him back just as fervently.

'Mum! I'm ready for breakfast…M-Mum?'

Tony pulled away from her and returned to his side of the bed so quickly she almost felt dizzy. She looked up to see Mason standing in the doorway, his hand on the door as though he'd just pushed it open, his clothes already on, his hair looking as though he'd attempted to brush it himself. Michelle drew the covers back up around her, cursing herself for forgetting that Mason was returning to school today and that any level of excitement usually caused him to wake up early.

Now, he stood almost paralysed as he took in his parents lying in bed together, his mouth open slightly, his eyes flickering between them. Michelle knew he'd seen Tony lying in her arms, touching her, kissing her deeply He was wearing his boxers but had nonetheless pulled the covers to his waist, looking cautiously over at his son.

Mason had never been faced with a sight quite like it before. It seemed to stun him. Then, his face went red with fury. He didn't like seeing Tony touch his mother like that. He didn't like it at all.

'Hey!' he yelled, his teeth clenched aggressively, his eyes narrowed. 'What were you doing?'

'Mason…' Michelle began, but her son outright ignored her.

'What are you doing in here?' Mason demanded of his father. 'You're not allowed in here! Don't you know the rules?'

'Mase,' Tony began. He turned away from the door and pulled his jeans on beneath the covers. He threw on his shirt and got out of bed.

'It's okay,' he said gently. 'We were just…just sleeping.'

'You're not allowed to sleep in here!' Mason yelled, looking up at him with his little fists clenched. 'Only Mum!'

Tony came toward him slowly.

'It's alright,' he told his son, knowing this was going to be difficult for him. 'Mum said I could sleep in here with her.'

'But you're not allowed, so go away!'

'Mason!' Michelle called warningly.

'Go away!' he bellowed, louder this time. He hadn't even looked at Michelle, his eyes locked heatedly with Tony's. 'Get out! You aren't allowed in here! You…you aren't allowed to cuddle her!'

'I'm not?' Tony asked, looking surprised.

'NO!' Mason shouted. His little fists shot out to shove at his father's stomach, to push him toward the door. 'You're not allowed to cuddle her! She doesn't belong to you! She…she belongs to _me_!'

'Mason – '

'GO AWAY!'

Mason ran away from him then, darted around the bed and hurled himself into his mother's arms, holding her frantically.

'Oh, Mason,' Michelle murmured, kissing his head and holding him tight. 'Sweetheart, it's alright.'

'Make him go away!' Mason gritted out against her shoulder. 'Make him leave right now!'

'Sweetheart, he was just giving me a cuddle. A cuddle's alright, isn't it?'

'NO!' he cried. He seemed to be holding back tears. 'I want him to go away. Make him go away!'

Tony stood at the end of the bed, watching Michelle pacify their child. He scratched at his cheek, feeling strangely annoyed, almost threatened. He was worried that if his relationship with Michelle continued to upset Mason she might turn from him, might slow things down between them to keep their son happy. It scared him.

He ground his teeth for a moment, his irritation looming. He knew Michelle was watching him as she rocked Mason, her face troubled. He felt like throwing his hands in the air, felt like yelling at the child. Michelle was already looking distressed about the situation…he could already feel himself losing her.

Unable to face the certain consequences of Mason's woes, he strode away. He went to the kitchen, put on the coffee and angrily drummed his fingers against the countertop, wondering what he could possibly do to combat this new problem.

After a few minutes, Michelle emerged from her bedroom, tugging a reluctant Mason along behind her. She was dressed in her red robe, her curls messy, her face slightly flushed from Tony's kisses. She looked frankly stunning, something that only fuelled Tony's resentment toward his son. This woman…he could lose this insanely beautiful woman just because the boy couldn't stand to share her. Mason looked up, noted Tony's continued presence in the apartment, and shifted closer to Michelle.

'Make Tony go away, mum,' he whispered urgently to her.

She ignored him and led him to the table.

'Here,' she said, leaving him in his chair. 'We'll have some breakfast.'

She moved around the kitchen, organising cereal and making his sandwich to take to school. Tony watched her, his eyes dark. He shot his son an annoyed look behind her back, which was returned in kind. The atmosphere in the kitchen was immensely tense.

'Mum…' Mason said loudly. 'He's still here.'

'Shush Mason,' Michelle said. 'Here,' she said to Tony, placing the cereal bowl in his hands. 'Give that to him for me.'

Tony frowned at her. She seemed to thinking hard about something, her forehead wrinkled slightly as she went about her morning chores, digging in the fridge to find an apple to chop up. He wondered what was on her mind, and went to dump the bowl on the table.

'Say thank you,' he commanded his son.

'Go away,' was the reply.

'Mason,' Tony said warningly.

'Get out! Alright?' Mason barked, his little arms crossed tightly. 'You don't belong in here with us! _So_ _go away_!'

They both jumped slightly when Michelle threw the fridge door closed with an almighty crash, things shaking slightly throughout the kitchen.

'Mason!' she bellowed. 'Don't you dare talk to your father like that!'

At first, Tony assumed she simply misspoke, but then he looked at her. She didn't seem horrified by her slip up. In fact, she seemed as though she'd done it quite deliberately. He stared at her. She was watching Mason closely.

No one spoke for a very long time. No one even breathed. Mason's eyes were wide.

'He's not…Tony's not…' he spluttered, though it seemed even he couldn't reject the notion with full conviction. Tony wondered how long he'd suspected it…

Slowly, Michelle came to sit down opposite her son at the table. Tony stayed where he was, watching them, dumbstruck. He couldn't feel his body. He couldn't move.

'Tony is your dad,' Michelle told him, her voice incredibly gentle. 'That's why he's always here with us. That's why he slept in my room with me. Mums and dads do that, don't they?'

Mason was blinking furiously at the table. His mind seemed to be going a million miles a second.

He looked up at his mother, his face terrifically confused. In fact, he seemed quite distressed.

'Are you sure?' he asked breathlessly. If not for the shock and seriousness of the situation, both Tony and Michelle might've laughed quietly at this.

'Yes, sweetheart,' Michelle said, fending off a small smile. 'I'm very sure.'

'But…but you said my dad died,' Mason said. 'Why did you say that?'

Michelle reached out to cover his hand with her own.

'I thought he did die,' she told him honestly. 'But he didn't. He's still alive. He's here. And he's waited a very long time to get to know you, and a very long time to be with us.'

Mason scratched at the table with his fingernail, chewing his lip. He looked uncertainly at Tony. Tony gazed back at him. There was silence for long time.

'You're my dad?' he clarified quietly.

Tony came to sit beside him, watching him carefully, wanting to hold him and kiss him but restraining himself.

'Yeah, Mase,' he said. He was surprised he could talk. Surprised he wasn't crying or hadn't crumbled to his knees. He was shocked he was still functioning at all. 'Is that…is that okay?'

Mason dropped his gaze back to his bowl of cereal. He thought for a very long time. He glanced at Michelle. He had a bite of corn flakes. He scratched at the table again.

'Don't know,' he said truthfully, his eyebrows sewn together.

'That's alright,' Tony said. 'You can think about it for a while.'

Michelle rubbed Mason's hand gently, feeling sympathetic toward his little mind. It seemed like it was in overdrive, like it was getting the biggest workout of its life. She played with his fingers, trying to convey that she was there, that he was safe and sound, as much as she could.

'We love you very much, Mason,' she told him after a moment, her voice warm yet firm. 'We want you to know that. You're the most important thing in the whole world to us and there's nothing we won't do for you. But we _are_ a family…and your father and I love each other too.'

Mason shifted uncomfortably at this.

'But it's gross,' he said, obviously referring to displays of affection between his parents.

Michelle nodded, considering him and his feelings seriously.

'I know,' she said. 'But we haven't seen each other in a very long time and sometimes we want to cuddle each other as well as cuddling you.'

Mason mulled this over. It seemed to make sense to him on some level. He looked at Tony.

'Were you here when I was little?' he asked. 'Like when I was a baby? Cos I don't remember.'

Tony felt relieved when Michelle answered for him.

'Tony had to go away when you were still in my tummy,' she told him. 'He's only getting to know you now.'

Mason chewed his lip some more. He ate a few more bites of cereal.

'Are you going to go away again?' he asked suspiciously.

'No,' Tony said instantly. 'No, I'm staying now.'

Mason nodded, avoiding both their gazes. It was several long minutes before he spoke again.

'Dads are cool,' he said quietly to no one in particular. 'I've always wanted mine to be alive instead of dead, like Theo's.'

He finished his cereal and pushed the bowl away from him.

'Can I go to school now?' he asked.

'Soon,' Michelle said. 'Don't you think you should apologise to your dad for being mean before? Maybe even give him a cuddle?'

Mason frowned as he got to his feet.

'Sorry,' he said, looking at his shoes.

'It's alright, Mase,' Tony said, glad to hear his voice was even.

'What about that hug?' Michelle urged, nudging him slightly. He didn't move. He looked very unsure.

'Uh,' he said, uncomfortably, his shoulders tense. 'I'm…I'm gonna get my bag now.'

He ran off into his room. Michelle watched him go. She knew the hug was a bit much to ask for. He'd just been hit with the biggest bombshell of his life. One step at a time was all that could be expected.

She took his bowl in hand and went to the sink. Tony watched her go. His heart was in pieces. It was sitting in a million tiny pieces in his chest. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even form coherent thought.

Michelle had told their son. That meant…that meant so many things. She'd done it. She'd done the one thing that signified that they could be together, that she could have him back in her life forever. His head was reeling. They were going to be a family now. They were going to be together. He wanted to hold her, wanted to kiss her, wanted to take her back into her room and make love to her and thank her, over and over again, for doing this for him, for being the person she was. He didn't deserve it. He knew that and still…she'd taken him back and gifted him with his son. She loved him. There was nothing he could do that aptly reflected what this meant to him, what this meant for the haunted half-life he'd been living for so long. He felt like the sun had just soared into the sky after the longest, coldest winter of his life.

'Mum?' Mason asked. He was back in the kitchen, his backpack on his shoulders. 'Can we go now please?'

Michelle brushed what Tony suspected were tears from her eyes before she turned to him.

'I think dad's going to take you to school,' she said with a small, emotional sniff. 'Does that sound alright?'

Mason looked at Tony. His face was no longer enraged, or confused, or even upset. In fact, there was something close to excitement there, something a lot like happiness.

'Yeah,' he eventually said, still gazing at his father, the man he'd come to adore over the months that had passed. 'Okay.'

He wandered off toward the front door. Tony got to his feet, clearing his throat. He felt floored as he watched Michelle. She watched him back, tears trickling down her face.

'Come on,' Mason said in a sing-song voice. 'I hate being late!'

Both Michelle and Tony went into the living room. Michelle slipped Mason's lunch in his bag and bent down to cuddle her son gently. She kissed his cheeks.

'Be careful today,' she said softly. 'Your cuts won't get better if you run around too much, or if you do silly things with Jude and Theo.'

'Alright,' he said impatiently, kissing her back. 'Alright, I'll be careful.'

She turned to Tony. He was looking at her, his face a collection of more heart-rending emotions than she'd ever seen in one person before.

'Bye,' she said softly. He took her hand and pulled her close. He held her with as much adoration and devotion as he could muster.

'Bye,' he said into her ear. They pulled back and gazed at each other.

'That's enough!' Mason said suddenly, taking Tony's hand and pulling him away. 'Bye Mum!'

Michelle watched them amble off toward the elevator together; her husband and her son, all the while wondering how long it normally took for a person to stop crying tears of raw, unbridled love. Months? Years, maybe? It really wouldn't surprise her in the slightest.

* * *

><p><em>reviews=opium<em>


	40. Chapter 40

'Are you going to pick me up today?'

'Do you want me to?'

Mason scuffed his shoe against the footpath for a moment. They were standing outside his school gates, having walked to school in mostly silence. Tony didn't mind, Mason had a lot to think about. He had also taken Tony's hand voluntarily when they crossed the roads and only let go if he remembered to. Tony wasn't sure if this was something he did out of habit because of Michelle, or if he was slowly warming more and more to the idea that it was his father who was walking beside him.

'I think I want mum to,' he said quietly, almost apologetically.

'Then she'll be here,' Tony said.

Mason nodded. He looked up from his shoes.

'Are you going to be at home after school?'

'Yeah, I will,' Tony said, crouching to his son. 'We'll make something good for dinner, okay? And maybe play baseball if mum lets us. We can't knock anything over this time though.'

Mason nodded, looking pleased.

''Kay,' he said. 'Bye.'

'Mason, hold on.'

Tony took his hand lightly and drew him in for a hug. Mason usually hugged him, but after the information he'd received that morning he seemed too uncertain to do it. Tony felt him relax in his arms and cuddle him back after a few seconds, his thin arms locking around his neck.

'We're still best friends,' Tony told him, holding him tight. 'That's not going to change.'

Mason pulled back and nodded. He gave a small thin-lipped smile, and Tony pushed him gently through the gates.

'Bye, Mase.'

'Bye,' he said, and scarpered off into school. Tony watched him go, and stood there for a long time afterward.

It was done. Mason knew. They could never escape the fact now. They could never reverse it or make him believe otherwise, not really. It was set in stone. He suddenly felt incredibly apprehensive, and started imagining all the ways he could let Mason down over the coming years, all the ways Mason could turn from him if he discovered the truth about his father, all the ways he could lose him. Tony shook himself slightly. Today was a good day, one of the best. He didn't need to agonise over these things yet. He could allow himself this short time without having to consider the dark days that could be lurking in their future.

He slowly turned from the school and walked home, feeling energised. He had just had the best night's sleep in six years, followed by a morning that had been both terrifying and jubilant. He felt hugely disappointed that there was nothing for him to do now except return to his little rented room and get some work done. It felt exceptionally anti-climactic.

The feeling of acute disappointment didn't last long however. He was sitting at the small desk against the wall in his room, reading over an intelligence report he'd been commissioned to identify weaknesses in on his laptop, when there was a knock at the door.

Ordinarily, he would have pulled his gun and approached the intruder with extreme suspicion, possibly hostility, but he recognised the knock.

He got to his feet, feeling utterly surprised, and opened the door to find Michelle standing on the other side. He stared at her. She'd never even asked where he lived before, let alone been there, and he couldn't make sense of the sight of her, in the corridor, staring back at him.

'You're not the only one who does creepy things,' she said softly. He blinked.

'You're not at work…'

'I have a few days left of holiday leave,' she informed him.

He took her in for a moment, unsure if she'd ever looked quite this beautiful before. Something about the way the late morning sunlight was hitting her from the window in his room, casting a warm, honeyed glow on her face, made her breathtaking. She was wearing jeans and a flowing white shirt rolled up at the elbows. Her hair was drawn up in a messy half bun at the nape of her neck, tendrils let loose around her face, and she looked well-rested and relaxed. She was, quite honestly, a vision of what Tony considered perfection.

'Can I come in?' she asked softly, eyeing him somewhat tenderly when she realised he couldn't stop gazing at her.

'Uh, yeah,' he suddenly, immediately stepping back and holding the door open for her. 'Yeah, of course.'

She stepped past him and ventured into the room, looking around, and Tony cursed himself for not having done something that might have made it more appealing to her. It wasn't exactly messy – he didn't have enough things to make it messy - but it wasn't particularly cosy or comfortable. At least it was clean, the bed was made, and things around the tiny built-in kitchenette against the wall were neat. This he felt thankful for, though he wasn't sure why. He knew none of it would've bothered her.

He closed the door, locked it, and then watched her. She had her arms wrapped around herself as she looked around, moving languorously, in no hurry. Her eyes fixated on the shelf near the bed as she passed it. Above it were several photos, stuck neatly to the wall. She was in every single one, and recognised them as the more iconic snapshots from their marriages, pictures they'd had framed around the house. The two he'd taken of Mason were there as well. Tony watched her gaze at them for a long time.

On the shelf were things from the box he'd tried to give her, the little bear with the ribbon, the sonogram, the tiny, overly-sentimental bird ornaments, the funny clay figurines, the silver heart on the silver chain. She wondered when he'd taken the things back. She'd forgotten entirely about the box once Mason had been taken.

Tony watched her slip her hands into her pockets and continue her inspection. He had a couple of shirts lying at the foot of the bed. Not many at all. Near his chair was a pair of jeans. In fact, he realised as he watched her, he had an altogether shocking lack of possessions. A laptop, some clothes, the photos and the things from the box. A gun. That was it.

She stepped into the bathroom then, a tiny little room with a shower, basin and toilet. She came back out and nosed around for a while longer, her eyes raking over the kitchenette.

'What…what are you doing here?' Tony asked, his eyes never leaving her, still a bit confused.

She looked at him, her hands still in her pockets, doing a slow spin and evaluating the place in its entirety.

'Came to see where you live,' she said. 'And I thought…I thought maybe we could spend some time together.'

Tony looked at her, standing in the middle of the room he'd occupied for months. Now he understood why she was here. Hell, he'd wanted nothing more than to wrap her up and love her for the rest of the day after she'd told Mason the truth that morning. In fact, he'd desperately wanted the three of them to stay together, locked away inside the apartment, badly needing to stay connected to them. It had left him feeling incomplete and dejected when he'd realised they couldn't. Mason was delirious to be going back to school, and he'd thought Michelle had to go to work. There hadn't been time for them to appreciate the afterglow of such a revelation, to affirm the new status they jointly shared as a little family. It had left him feeling terribly lost…and he had a feeling Michelle had felt exactly the same way. The need to occupy the same space right now was incalculably strong, and he was exceptionally glad she'd come to see him.

She tilted her head to the side.

'Only if you want to,' she added when he said nothing.

'Yeah,' he suddenly, realising he'd been silent for a while. 'Yeah, of course.'

They both stayed where they were for a moment. Suddenly, Tony turned to his little fridge.

'Can I get you something to drink? Juice? Water?'

She smiled faintly.

'Maybe we could have some coffee?' she suggested.

'Uh, yeah,' he said, rummaging through the small cabinet. 'Yeah, give me a second.'

''Kay,' she said, turning from him, glancing around once more, looking slightly displaced. There was no couch in his room.

'Here,' Tony said instantly, pulling his desk chair out for her. She looked at it for a moment, and seemed to be considering the fact that he'd clearly occupied it before she had come into his room, and that he might want to return to it shortly. She glanced at his bed and, after a thoughtful moment, crept over to perch instead on the covers, sitting crossed legged upon the place where he normally stretched out to sleep. It would have been a great, raging lie to say he wasn't turned on in a way that nearly disabled him to see her on his bed.

'Uh…' he stared at her. She seemed oblivious to his sudden blazing arousal, smoothing the covers beneath her and looking back at the photos on the wall. Tony turned around and focused his attention on the coffee, getting himself under control. He wasn't entirely convinced sex was a good move. He knew she hadn't come here expressly for that, and he wasn't going to initiate it. They'd rushed into it before. He pushed it upon her the first time, coaxed her into it before she'd been ready. She had participated willingly because she'd been unhappy in the four months without him and possibly felt she was in danger of losing him again. Looking back on it, it was a stupid, impulsive thing to do. Too much too quickly, and she'd pulled away from him immediately afterward. She hadn't understood then, not the way she did now, and he in turn, hadn't understood her.

The second time was a manifestation of her gruelling unhappiness, rejection by Mason, and a desire to be included and tended to by someone who loved her. It hadn't been for the right reasons either, and even though things had ended on a somewhat loving note between them, she'd still labelled the encounter a mistake afterward.

Then, when he'd woken up beside her that morning and she'd drawn him in, he'd been so enamoured that he hadn't given it a second thought. She'd turned to him with sleepy eyes and a smile and all his self-control had imploded and subsequently ceased to exist.

Now, after she'd told Mason he was his father, he wanted dearly to make love to her. He felt like it was the right time, for the right reasons, and that they'd both finally reached a point where it was warranted, where she wouldn't turn from him, where neither party could tag it a mistake in any respect. They had reached a point of understanding, of acceptance, and she'd made a huge, telling gesture only hours before. Still…he wasn't certain.

He made two steaming cups of coffee, hers with milk, his without, and turned to the bed. He considered sitting beside her, but ultimately decided against it. He didn't have enough self-control for that sort of thing. Instead he carefully handed her the cup and then sat back down on his desk chair, close enough to the bed to face her and talk, far enough away not to toss his cup aside and ravage her.

She thanked him and blew the steam from the coffee, her pursed lips teasing him. The sun was still dancing on her face, like a tantalising aura around her, and he wanted to draw the blinds or something. Instead, he cupped his coffee between his hands and tried to find some part of her that he didn't find alluring to stare at. Sadly, there wasn't one.

'I didn't expect you to do that this morning,' he said after a while.

She was watching him. She hadn't really taken her eyes off him since she'd sat down.

'It was the right time,' she said. 'He'd seemed to take it well. How was he at school?'

'He was pretty quiet. I got him to hug me. He wants you to pick him up later.'

She nodded.

'I think he's happy,' she said. 'It was in his face.'

Tony nodded.

'You'll never understand what it meant to me,' he said, his voice trailing off.

She nodded knowingly.

'I wanted to tell you that I'm ready,' she said. 'That I don't want to keep you out anymore, that I don't want to find reasons to push you away. I figured that was probably the best way to do it.'

She sipped her coffee.

'I'm sorry for the things I've done to you. For making you go, for bringing up Cara Bowden, for telling you one thing and then doing another. I know our family means everything to you. I shouldn't have hurt you like that.'

'You're right,' he said. 'Our family does mean everything to me. But I've realised that I pushed myself on you and I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have been so desperate to be a part of your life again so soon. I know it scared you.'

She nodded, fingering the rim of her cup.

'The thing you said last night…that you wouldn't have let me go after Landers' daughters because you didn't want me to destroy myself…is that how you feel? About yourself?'

Tony stared at her for a very long time.

'Yes,' he said finally.

Michelle suddenly looked inexplicably tormented.

'I deserve to feel this way,' he said quietly. 'But I would die before I let it happen to you. The people I killed…they won't leave me. They're in my dreams. I see them all the time. It'll be like this forever now, there's nothing I can do about it. All I can do is keep you safe from the same thing.'

'I don't know if you could've stopped me,' she said. 'If Mason died, nothing could've stopped me.'

'I would've tried,' he said. 'I know how it feels. I would've found a way.'

She nodded.

'I can't believe he survived. It still doesn't seem real to me. I mean…he's back at school right now, back with his friends and he's happy. Sometimes it just doesn't make any sense…'

'What doesn't?'

'That we're still here. Still alive. All three of us. Mason should have died, just the way we should have. What child survives those kinds of wounds? And you…I've almost lost you so many times… but you're here, talking to me.'

She shook her head, looking incredulous. He watched her, his heart aching.

'I don't want you to be destroyed forever,' she said, true grief in her voice. 'I want you to be whole.'

'I'm whole as long you're alive,' he murmured. 'I'm whole whenever I'm with you.'

'And when you're not?'

He didn't answer her right away, looking at his coffee cup for a short while.

'Then I have the thought of you to tide me over until I am.'

She swallowed hard, following his lead and looking at her cup. They both took occasional sips, both glancing at each other every few seconds.

'So, the boys in Mason's class are forming a junior hockey team,' she said conversationally. 'They start in two weeks. It's just learning to skate and training with the sticks. He wants to do it.'

Tony frowned at her.

'Ice hockey?' he clarified.

She nodded. 'I know this won't make any sense to you, but I think they like it slightly more than baseball here.'

'You're right, that doesn't make any sense.'

She gave a little smile.

'Are we signing him up?'

Tony drummed his fingers against his thigh.

'I don't think so,' he said.

Michelle's face fell slightly.

'No?'

'It's ice hockey. It's too dangerous.'

'Tony, we'll put him in padding…'

'He's stick thin, Michelle. He's too little. And who says it's a good idea to put six years old on ice anyway? They can barely keep themselves upright on solid, dry ground.'

'All his friends have signed up. They're all getting their uniforms and equipment...'

'His friends aren't my concern,' was the biting, stoic reply. 'All he has to do is overbalance and he'll break an arm. Or lose a tooth. And what about when he's actually learnt to play? Are we going to go and watch him get beaten up every weekend by his opponents? What if he gets hit in the stomach? It could mess up his insides again.'

'He's really excited about it.'

'Yeah, well, he'll just have to be disappointed.'

'You know, I had always planned to let him do it when I enrolled him at the school…'

'Well, I'm saying no,' Tony said, looking annoyed. 'He's not doing it. That's final.'

Michelle was glaring at him from her place on the bed.

'You know, school's pretty dangerous,' she said, looking contemplative. 'Maybe we should home-school him.'

'What?'

'And going outside…that can end badly. Lots of danger there. He'll have to be housebound from now on.'

'Michelle –'

'And cotton wool. I'll get some of that to wrap him up in. You just can't be too careful these days…'

'Stop that. He can do basketball or something. Something with less chance of injury.'

'No one in his class is doing basketball,' she said. She then gazed out the window with a mocking look on her face. 'I can just imagine him today at school…having to listen to all his friends talk about their new helmets and skates. He's going to be so sad when you tell him. So unhappy…'

Tony glowered at her for several seconds. She stared comfortably back.

'Fine,' he said explosively, feeling furious at her for being able to sway him so easily. 'Fine! But the second he get hurts…the moment he even gets a bruise I'm pulling him out. I don't care if he's angry with me. I don't care if he never talks to me again.'

'You do care,' Michelle said with a knowingly smile. 'Don't worry. We'll get him the best helmet, and shoulder and knee pads, and good skates – skates he won't twist his ankles in.'

'Tell you what,' Tony said grumpily. 'He's not doing this past the age of twelve. Not when they'll start being able to do serious damage to each other.'

'It's very popular for boys in high school,' she told him. 'But who knows? He mightn't even like it. He might turn out to be a nerdy teenager.'

'Have you seen any behaviour so far that supports that prediction?' Tony asked. 'He's a rough and tumble sort of kid. He'll love it, I can tell already.'

Michelle gave a one shouldered shrug.

'Then he'll be happy.'

'You know, I'm gonna blame you if he continues this as an adult,' Tony said brusquely. 'It'll be just our luck that he will. Do you have any idea how much they'll be able to hurt each other then? We'll be at the hospital every other week to get him patched up. I'm gonna blame you every time.'

He stopped to take a long, resigned breath, and caught Michelle's eye. She was smiling at him.

'Thank you,' she said quietly. 'I just don't want him to miss out on things. I just want him to be happy.'

Tony nodded, scratching at his face.

'I just worry about him, Michelle,' he confided to her. 'He's precious.'

'I know,' she said. 'Trust me, I know. But we can't stop him from doing normal things. That's not right.'

He nodded, feeling strangely emotional. She watched him, and for some reason he wished she wouldn't.

'He _is_ beautiful,' she murmured to him, seeing his emotion.

He nodded. 'I love him so much.'

'I know you do,' she whispered. 'When I first had him all I could think about was how happy we would've been. How happy he would've made us. I never thought I'd actually get to experience this with you.'

It was a while later that she broke their comfortable silence.

'I'm glad Danny went to see you,' she said. 'I didn't realise it at the time, but I think I called him hoping he might. Sounds strange, but then again…Mason started school that day…and the fact that you were alive and not there to be with your son… anyway, I called Danny that night.'

'I didn't know that,' he said.

'I didn't admit it to myself. I was so furious at you.'

He nodded, and watched her finish her coffee. He looked at his watch.

'You want some lunch?' he asked. 'We could go out…'

She thought this over.

'Let's order in,' she said. 'I don't want to leave here just yet.'

He smiled at her, and set down his cup, reaching for some of the menu pamphlets in his desk drawer.

Half an hour later, their food had arrived. They'd ordered a variety of Thai dishes, and spread them out on the floor, sitting across from each other, eating quietly.

'I've been going to the doctors,' she told him. 'To the appointments you set up.'

'Really?' he asked, looking up. 'Is everything alright?'

'Yeah,' she said, looking serene. 'Everything's fine. I told him about the vitamins you bought; he said they were a good idea.'

'You've been taking them?'

She nodded. He scratched at his face, gazing at her, feeling thrilled over what she'd told him. She let out a small breath and placed her food on the floor, moving closer to him. He watched her, his eyes searching her face as she curled up against him, and he snaked his arms around her.

'Thank you,' he breathed into her ear, hugging her gently. 'I…I'm worried about this heart thing.'

'Don't be,' she said, her hands sliding up his chest and winding around his neck. 'We don't have to worry about it yet.'

He stroked her face, looking at her apprehensively. She met his gaze, a hard, brave sort of look in her eyes.

'I can't lose you,' he explained, his hand in her hair. 'It can't let something like this happen to us, not after everything.'

'It's out of our control,' she said bluntly. 'We can't waste time thinking about it if we can't control it.'

She was sitting on the floor between his legs, facing him, her arms around him, and he drew her closer, their foreheads touching.

'I want to come to one of these appointments,' he told her, his lips millimetres from hers, his finger twisting in a curl by her ear. 'I want to know what we should be doing...'

'The food thing is important,' she said, the tips of her fingers scratching lightly at the fine hairs at the top of his chest. 'I should exercise more. I should do things to get my heart rate up.'

She watched his mouth crack into a rakish grin.

'I could help you with that,' he said, cupping her jaw, bumping his nose against hers. 'If you want me to.'

She smiled at him, and rolled her eyes good naturedly.

'I'm sure you could,' she breathed into his neck, placing a soft kiss there. He tightened his hold on her, feeling her relax completely in his arms.

'I'm going to take care of you now,' he muttered, his voice gravelly, needing to make promises to her, needing her to know he would not ever let her down again. 'I'm going to take care of you. I don't want you to worry about anything anymore.'

'Shhh,' she told him, rubbing his chest soothingly. 'Tony, shhh.'

'No,' he said fiercely. 'I need to do this…I need to say this. You've done this by yourself for so long, too long really. I'm going to take care of us now. I want you to relax, to slow down. Quit your job, focus more on your health. I want you to enjoy Mason, and not have to do everything for him. I'm the one who's going to be taking care of our family now. Alright?'

'Tony,' she said gently. 'You know that's not what I want. I like doing things for Mason. I enjoy working. I don't expect you to do everything now.'

'You should,' he said quietly. 'And I am. When you were pregnant, I never imagined this kind of life for you, this kind of strain and stress. It ends now. It ends today.'

'Shhh,' she said again. 'I've been stressed because of us, because of Mason, but things are getting better now. That's all I need. And I want to work. I'm not giving that up.'

Tony shifted her into his lap, and leant back against his bed.

'Fine,' he said. 'Then I'll get Mason from school each day. You can move up in your job then, if that's what you want. I don't really give a damn, Michelle. I just want you to be happy. To be healthy.'

He felt her smile against his chest.

'That sounds nice,' she said, nuzzling her face against him.

He started a slow, gentle massage across her back, breathing her in deeply. They stayed like this for a long time, comfortable together, and Tony wondered if she didn't nod off slightly at times. Every so often he pulled her back for a tight, squeezing hug, loving the smell and feel of her curls on his face.

She looked up at him at one point, blinking lazily, and she took his hand in her own and played with his fingers. Slowly, she pulled away, got to her feet and started clearing their food from the floor and tossing it in the bin. Tony helped her and once they were done he watched her wash her hands before moving to the shelf on the other wall.

She fingered the silver chain for a moment, and then took it between her fingers, looking at it. She unclipped the clasp and made to slip it on, but Tony stopped her and took it from her hands. He stood behind her, the heart falling just beneath her clavicle as he fastened it around her neck.

'I've waited a very long time to put this back on you,' he said, thumbing the chain and dropping a kiss onto her shoulder.

She nodded, and spun slowly in his arms, looking up at him, her eyes suddenly hungry. She held his face, her thumb tapping lightly at his lips.

'Kiss me,' she said.

Instantly, his eyes darkened, becoming almost animalistic at her simple request. He drew her in sharply, took her lips as his own, tugging fervidly, probing to find her tongue. She moaned breathily into his mouth, her hands stroking at his chest, and he pulled back to look at her, his eyes burning.

'So sweet,' he groaned achingly, backing her up against the wall, his fingers on her lips. 'You…you always taste so sweet to me.'

He heard himself growl deeply in his throat when he watched her take one of his fingers between her pouting lips, laving at it with her tongue, biting down gently. His breaths were tearing from his lips, hot upon her face, and she slipped another of his fingers into the soft, moist cavern of her mouth, sucking softly.

'Jesus, Michelle,' he said, a warning edge to his voice, his eyes locked on her lips as though hypnotised. 'That's…that's so fucking hot, baby.'

She smiled around his fingers, and gave him a final nip. Slowly, his hand fell from her face, slipping down her chin, sliding over her neck and coming to rest between her breasts, just above the buttons of her shirt.

'You know,' she whispered, her voice low and throaty, watching him with heavy eyes. 'I put this shirt on with the hope that you'd take it off me.'

He stared at her with such a heated look in his eyes that she shivered slightly beneath his touch. He stepped in closer, brushing his needy arousal against her as his hands took to her shirt. He released each button from its mooring, his eyes flickering between her eyes, her mouth and her cleavage. He eased the shirt from her shoulders and drew her toward him like a ragdoll, his mouth devouring her skin, his roughened face scratching at her breasts.

She cradled his face as he adored her, and let out a small pant as he hooked his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans and held her firm against his erection, pushing against her to ensure she appreciated the full measure of his excitement.

'This is what you do to me,' he informed her devilishly. 'All you have to do is look at me and I'm hard.'

She bumped her pelvis against him cheekily and listened to him groan once more, looking dazed with anticipation as he unzipped her jeans and dragged her out of them, dropping to his knees to kiss the skin he exposed. His hand firmly cupped her calf, slid so slowly up to her knee and brushed the soft skin of her thigh. He felt her hands go to his shirt and he lifted his arms as she stole the garment from him and tossed it away. He returned his hands to her thighs, moving his face in, his nose pressing into her underwear, breathing in her scent. He flicked his tongue out, dabbing at her through the material, and she bucked in his arms, her body trembling with need.

'Hey,' he said, feeling her fingers tighten apprehensively in his hair when he went to slip the silky fabric from her body. 'Everything okay?'

'Y-yeah,' she murmured, looking down and meeting his eyes. 'It's…it's been such a long time, that's all.'

Without breaking their gaze, Tony rid her of her underwear and kissed her very intimately, his pupils as dilated as hers, his breathing just as erratic. She rid herself of her bra as he watched her, and his face softened with adoration for the sight.

'When I said I was going to take care of you before,' he said, his voice slightly muffled, 'I meant it…I meant it in every way.'

Suddenly, he tossed her over his shoulder and got to his feet. She squeaked slightly, her curls tumbling down his back and brushing against his skin as he moved across the room and set her down gently on his desk. He knelt between her legs, burrowing his face in her thighs.

'Lean back, baby,' he instructed her softly. 'Just let me take care of you.'

He slowly felt her anxiety leave her as he kissed her body, allowing him to delve deeper into her folds with his tongue, enabling him to suck and lap and hum against her. He drank her in as though she was wine, unable to believe he'd gone over six years without tasting her like this, and she moaned incessantly at his touch, writhing upon his desk, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He felt her legs begin to tense and the muscles in her abdomen contract when she titled his face up to look at her.

'No,' she mumbled to him, her eyes half closed with pleasure. 'T-together.'

He pressed his face against her stomach, kissing her navel, loving her dearly for understanding what they both needed. He carried her away from the desk and onto his bed, laying her down upon the covers and suspending himself above her, propped up on his elbows.

'I lay here every night,' he told her, lowering his mouth to kiss one of her nipples. 'And I think about you.' He kissed the other, loving the soft purr that echoed from her lips when he did. 'I've thought about nothing but you since the day we met.'

She grabbed his face and pulled him in for a jarring, ferocious kiss, one hand going down to unzip him. He rolled away from her, leaving her only long enough to get rid of the rest of his clothes, and resumed his position, gazing down at her. She gazed right back, and closed her hand around him, stroking him teasingly, applying a small amount of pressure, enough to drive him wild. He looked down at them, and so did she as she guided him inside her. They watched him enter her gradually, watched him slide in and out, wet with her arousal, before they looked back into each other's eyes, sealing the moment with a soft, loving kiss.

What started out as a placid rhythm evolved into a uncontrolled one, both grasping at each other, both whimpering each other's names as they took each other to new heights. Their climax, a simultaneous shared affair, was the best of both their lives, and they felt dizzy and otherworldly as they came back down to each other, brushing both sweat and the occasional tear from the other's face, clinging to each other, whispering their love like it was a secret, like it was the first time.

They stayed together, entwined and sated, for a very long time afterward, searching out the occasional languid kiss or caress, otherwise content to breathe together, to feel each other.

Eventually, Tony watched Michelle extract herself from his arms, get up from the bed and look around the room. He watched her, stark naked, as she found a backpack in the corner and began stuffing his clothes into it. He too got to his feet.

'What're you doing?' he asked.

He realised suddenly that she was crying.

'You're coming home,' she told him, not looking in his direction for fear that he might gage her mounting emotion. 'We're bringing your things with us now.'

'Honey,' he said, taking her hands and stilling them. He tilted her face upwards, wiping tears from her cheeks. 'It doesn't have to be today. It doesn't even have to be soon.'

'No,' she said. 'No…this is what we need.'

He watched her stuff a pair of his shoes in the bag.

'I'm not saying it's going to be perfect,' she said suddenly, looking around for other items she might have missed. She grabbed a pair of socks from near the bathroom door. 'There are going to be days when I'll think about things…when I'm reminded of everything and I won't be able to love you the way I want to. They won't be good days and I'll be angry but…but I want you to come home. I know that.'

He watched her, and slowly took the bag from her hands, kissing her forehead a couple of times as he did.

'The couch in the study,' he said, 'folds out into a bed, right?'

She nodded, trying to get herself under control.

'On bad days, I'll just sleep there,' he told her. 'I know it won't be perfect. I know we won't always be able to look past what's happened, but I expect that. I'll give you space, and you'll give me the same. We'll be good to each other. I just…I want more good days than bad.'

She nodded, seeming unable to speak just yet, and allowed him to wrap her tightly in his arms and draw her back to the bed, kissing away her fears as he did. He tucked his blanket around her, and looked over at his clock.

'You've got to get Mase in an hour,' he told her, his lips on her collarbone.

'We'll get him together,' she said, her hands trailing across his chest, over his stomach and lower still. 'But that's in an hour…'

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><p><em>Reviews are, as always, opium <em>


	41. Chapter 41

_This is the last chapter! This is how I really see their lives now, and I hope you won't be too disappointed. It is my version of their reality and I wanted to do it justice, anything else seems contrived and unlikely given all they've been through. Epic sob. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's read from the start, or jumped in halfway, or just found it. I can't thank you enough for reading. To those who review – your generosity amazes me. You don't have to do it, you have nothing really to gain by it, and I'm not paying you or promising you sexual favours or anything and still…you write the kindest things for no reason and it blows my mind. For that, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Poor T&M. They didn't deserve the end they got, but we all love them madly and that's why we write these things I guess. Anyway, cheers for reading._

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><p>Tony awoke slowly, his eyes cracking open as he felt around for Michelle. She was closer than he expected, and when he opened his eyes fully he found her looking at him, watching him. He rubbed his face, and pulled her close and she slipped her arms around him, placing a kiss on his collarbone.<p>

'Morning,' he said, his voice rough with sleep, his mouth at her forehead.

'Hey,' she responded before swaying her hips very slowly against him, her fingers trailing across his chest. It only took another second for him to become fully awake, and then another for him to trap her beneath him, enter her gently and patter her skin with kisses.

They made love lethargically, watching each other all the while, adoring the familiarity of it and afterward she held him tightly and then slipped from the bed, leaving him for the bathroom. He kept his eyes on the door for a long time, listening to her move around in the shower.

Nearly three months had passed since she'd told Mason the truth and had helped Tony lug his few possessions into the apartment. Tony had, at first, been apprehensive as to how Mason would cope with the sudden unavoidable change in the family dynamic. Fortunately, after a few initial territorial problems, he seemed quite happy to have a father, especially in someone he already liked, and he adapted fairly well to the change, even handling the quick kisses or touches between his parents with only a slightly dismayed look. Tony couldn't have been more delighted with him, and cherished the extra time the move gave him with his son. He'd been so happy with Mason that he had almost failed to notice the gradual changes in Michelle. He lay still in bed, listening to her, feeling helpless and lost. She was trying so hard, he knew that. She was doing her best to be the happy, enamoured woman she'd been that morning, but it was far more difficult for her. Impossible, he suspected.

At first, she'd enjoyed the difference Tony made to her life. They'd shared meals with Mason, played with him as a family, took him out on the weekends and listened to him read together. Once he was asleep, they would make love in the dark, and hold each other afterwards, feeling safe and sated and happy, only to wake up and reach for each other once more in the morning. They would kiss each other til they were both smiling, and if time permitted, would indulge in more love making, and then wake their son and make him breakfast.

Tony wasn't certain when things started to change. All he knew was that they had. Whatever glow their reunion had afforded her had dimmed. It was gone now, he was merely continuing to delude himself otherwise. She didn't try to heap guilt on him, didn't attempt to push him away or bring up the past, but that didn't mean it ceased to linger in her mind. She couldn't reproach him over the immorality of his revenge or tell him how he'd hurt her because of it, nor did she seem to want to, but it was there. He could see it in her face, her terribly saddened eyes. Having him there served as a constant reminder of all the lives lost in her name and, though it horrified him daily, he knew it was slowly devouring her. His wife was good, through and through. He'd always known that. That was why she was aching now, and would continue to for the rest of her life. She had said there would be bad days, days when she couldn't be happy…Tony just hadn't expected so many. Of course, he'd been a fool not to. So had she. She had imagined that they could forget and move on, that they could soothe all the pain between them with kisses and laughter and the process of making new memories, but she'd been quite wrong. Now, it was just the rhythm of their lives.

He tried to love her, and she let him, and loved him in return. She grinned and giggled for Mason as she played with him and tended to him, and kissed Tony when she arrived home after work, but she wasn't happy. And neither was he. It wasn't possible for him if she wasn't. And the more her guilt crept in on her, the more his did too.

He'd started to think it was all a mistake. Her silence, her willingness to fake contentment for the sake of him and their family caused him great pain. He didn't want her to put on a brave face, he didn't want her to fend off her despair, or hide the remorseful look in her eyes. He remembered what it had been like, years ago, when she'd been happy. She'd been like a bolt of lightning, like a beam of light. Real, full smiles. Rich, delighted laughter. She used to say silly things and bounce around their place and tease him until he snatched her in his arms and kissed her. It used to take his breath away. Now, he couldn't find her light, or whatever it was. He searched desperately. He needed to see some trace of true happiness in her. But he couldn't.

In a lot of ways, he knew it would have been better if he'd not come back into her life again at all. She never really stood a chance against him, he knew that. One way or another, they would have ended up in each other's arms once more. It had been a matter of time. They were powerless against each other, they always had been. He knew she loved him with all her heart, that she still desired him, missed him terribly when he wasn't there, and wanted him close…but he was coming to learn that these things didn't make her happy. In fact, they did the opposite.

She didn't want him to go. He knew that too. She gripped his hand every night while she slept, and curled up against him, and held him for a moment longer than necessary when she greeted him after work. For as tortured as she was, he knew that if he left it would not make things better. She'd miss him, and wonder where he was, and call him back when it got too hard to have him gone. They'd bonded too much as a family to reverse things.

He sensed she clung to their cheerful memories, that she relived things in her head, and cherished the old light hearted conversations she was able to replay. She stifled the regret and adored the nostalgia, and that seemed to be what she was sustaining their love on. She treasured their old relationship, back when they'd both been free of guilt and longing and obligation, and that love seemed to make everything worthwhile, as though she felt she owed it to the old relationship to make this new unhappier one work. He wondered how often she reran the memory of a stolen first kiss, so many years ago, in a dark hallway at CTU, back when things had been exciting, when they'd been dazzled by each other, when they hadn't known how things were going to play out, or if there would even be a first date. A memory where their futures remained untold.

And Tony tried to be the person he'd been then. He tried as much as he could for her, but he simply wasn't that person any longer and there was little he could do. Too much had happened to them, far, far too much. He knew it was serious by the measures she took to keep her desolation from him. She didn't want him to know, and for that he loved her even more. Now, they were two half ruined people, still wrapped up in an old love that brought them both great comfort and not much else. There was no way to fix it, so if comfort was all that they could salvage from the last six years, then comfort would have to do.

Tony slowly got out of bed and entered the bathroom. He was just as naked as Michelle, and watched her in the shower for a moment as she rinsed conditioner from her hair. She jumped a little when she opened her eyes and saw him, but then offered him a small smile.

Slowly, he stepped forward into the hot running water, letting it cascade through his hair and down over his shoulders. Michelle watched him closely as he came toward her, trapping her gently against the shower wall and enveloping her in his arms. He held her for a very long time, warm under the stream.

'Tell me what to do,' he whispered to her. It destroyed him that she knew exactly what he was talking about. She swallowed and dropped her gaze.

'There's nothing,' she murmured back, making small circles against his chest with the tip of her finger. 'I don't want you to do anything.'

'You aren't happy,' he said, his hand under his chin, trying to catch her eye. She gave a gentle shrug.

'I have you. We have Mason. Nothing else matters.'

'Do you want me to-'

'No,' she cut him off. 'Don't leave. That won't ever make me happy. You know it won't. I want you here with me.'

He did know. He once again felt a bolt of regret. He shouldn't have come back. She'd still be happy with Mason if he hadn't, just the way she'd been the night he'd first seen her outside the apartment. Instead, they were together and would be for always…that was a long time to be unhappy, a long time to live with so much pain.

'He needs you,' she told him, as though she could hear his thoughts. 'He's getting to the age where he really does need you. And I've been lonely without you for a very long time. Anything else…it doesn't matter to me.'

Tony shook his head slightly, listening to the selfless things spouting from her lips. He held her hand in his, brushing his thumb across the ring there. She hadn't married him again. She had said no, said it was just silly, but she had let him put a matching set of rings on both their fingers, and that had been enough for him. He kissed her hand, and then her lips, and she opened her mouth to him, her tongue caressing his.

'I want you to be happy,' he said, breaking away. 'You know that's what I want.'

She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his chest softly, as though trying to distract herself from her sorrow.

'I'm not sure it's possible for people like us,' she told him very quietly. 'I'm beginning to realise that. At least not for people who've been the people we've been. For people like Jack, or Chloe, or that poor woman Renee. We just take what we can get, whatever small moments of happiness we can steal while we've got the chance. That job…you once said to me that it is what it is, and you were right. It will always do terrible things to people, and people will do terrible things because of it. We're together now. We're staying together. Whatever chance I have of healing is with you, and yours is with me.'

He gripped her tightly, and realised he was crying.

'Do you think you will?' he asked her, his voice obstructed and woefully upset.

She lifted her shoulder again, and he took it to mean 'no'.

'Watching Mason grow helps,' she said. 'We've got to make him a good person, Tony. I…I need him to be a good person.'

'He will be,' he promised her, knowing that and that alone could bring her some ultimate happiness, or at least closure. Suddenly, nothing else was more important to him than that. 'We'll make sure together.'

She nodded, and rested her head against his neck, and kissed him softly before stepping away to get ready for work. He watched her go, feeling destroyed. She'd lost so much of herself because of him and had suffered so badly because of the things he'd done in his own suffering. He knew they would take care of each other now, would look after each other through life, their relationship sad and rife with longing and that seemed to be his punishment. Not a jail cell, not the bad dreams he had, but the distant, immeasurable anguish in the eyes of the woman he loved…something he would have to face every day for the rest of his life, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

'Am I gonna have these lines forever?'

Both Tony and Michelle looked up from where they stood in the kitchen, tidying up after dinner, working away in quiet harmony. Mason had come in behind them wearing just his pyjama pants, his top dangling from his hand, his little chest bare. He'd clearly been contemplating himself in his bedroom, enough to remove his shirt and confront his parents. He was now frowning down at the wounds that had healed into thin pinkish lines, and he looked disgruntled.

'Because Jude said when you get hurt you have a line forever,' he continued, running his hand over his very full tummy. 'These lines look gross.'

For a moment, Tony and Michelle just took in their shamelessly bare chested son and the displeased look on his face.

'That reminds me,' Michelle said, taking down a little jar of salve from the cupboard above the fridge.

'Here,' Tony said, gently taking it from her. 'I'll do it.'

He sat down at the table and beckoned for Mason to come closer, close enough to slather on the salve that would continue to repair the damaged flesh and possibly help the scars fade.

'Dad?' he asked, watching his father rub in the ointment. 'Will I?'

'Probably,' Tony said, tickling him lightly.

'Arrrgh. Stop it!' he said, grinning from ear to ear and trying to twist away. Then he looked serious once more. 'I want them to go away.'

Tony watched his son looking forlornly at himself before taking his little hand and bringing it to his own face.

'See that?' he asked, touching Mason's fingers to the scar above his eyebrow. 'I've got them too.'

Mason blinked at it, and leaned closer to look.

'And here,' Tony said, showing him the remnants of a bullet wound on his hand. Mason considered it for a long moment, and then glanced back at his own, still looking upset.

'Anywhere else?' he asked hopefully.

'Uh…'

'Here,' said Michelle softly. She was suddenly standing by Tony's side, her fingers brushing very lightly against his neck. 'See, sweetheart?'

Mason peered at the scar there and reached out to touch it. Tony glanced at Michelle, and saw an old upset look pass through her eyes as she gazed at his neck. He knew she hated that scar. It symbolised the very first time she'd come close to losing him, and it had scared her horribly. It had forced her to feel things she'd not yet felt before in her life at that point. As Mason was busy prodding at his skin, Tony reached out and held her hand.

'Here, Mase,' he said, pulling his son back. 'Look.'

Without asking, he raised Michelle's sweater slightly to show their son her abdomen, and the many thin white lines there left over from her time with Landers and his colleagues.

'Hey,' Mason said. 'Mum's got them too!'

Suddenly, he was smiling.

'That's everyone!' he said happily, looking between them. They both stared at him for a long moment, feeling overwhelmed by him, feeling stunned just to see his smiling face. Tony saw nothing but Michelle's beautiful eyes, and she saw nothing but Tony's nose, and chin, and mouth. They both wanted to clutch their son in their arms, wanted to explain what he meant to them, wanted to kiss him and hold him and make him understand that he had saved them, that he was saving them every day without even trying. Instead, they just stared.

'What?' he asked them, still grinning.

'Nothing,' Tony said, slipping his top back on him. He ruffled his hair and pulled him in for a tight hug.

'Night Mase,' he muttered.

'Night Dad,' Mason replied, shooting another quick look at the scar above his eyebrow. He then clawed at Michelle's waist, asking her to pick him up without words. She knew their shared sign language well, and hoisted him into her arms.

'Story?' he asked her, his face pressing into her shoulder as they walked to his room.

'Story what?'

'Story please?'

She smiled and kissed him and placed him in his bed. Tony had come with them, and was leaning against the doorway, watching the woman he loved tuck his son into bed.

'Tell you what' she said, neatening the hair his father had messed up only moments before, 'you can have two.'

_xx_


End file.
